Feather on the Tuzen
by traveller19
Summary: While trying to hold her people together in the wake of the Minbari Civil War, Delenn is desperately worried when Lennier falls very ill. But things get even worse when she learns of a horrendous terrorist attack on her homeworld. (TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicide, terrorism, vomiting, medical)
1. Not Good At All

No one ever said overhauling an entire governmental system would be easy. Especially not when that system had been in place for a thousand years.

But if anyone could do it, it was Delenn. Lennier's faith in her had never wavered, not even for a moment. It was because of her that the terrible civil war that had torn the Minbari people apart and caused so much death and destruction had ended. The crystal spires of the Yedor temple, having stood tall and proud and beautiful for a millennium, had crumbled. And many Minbari had lost family members and loved ones. But it was over now, and Delenn was the reason for that. Lennier shuddered to recall the dread and fear he had felt as he watched her standing in the Starfire Wheel, knowing that he could be seconds away from losing her forever. The fact that she had wanted him not to follow her, _needed_ him to take over where she had left off, had been the _only_ reason he had not jumped in there with her. He would have gladly given his life for hers, if it would have been effective. But they had both known that she was only one who could do this. Delenn's physical transformation had already made her a symbol of change amongst their people, a people suddenly finding themselves in desperate need of change. In Lennier's deathbed vision of Dukhat the previous year, the great religious leader had told him that together, Delenn and Lennier would change the universe – that she was destined for great things and he was to be her guide. So he had stood there and watched her burn for their people, and he had felt the strangest mixture of pride and love and grief. In the moment, he had been unable to stop one selfish thought from poking through his attention on Delenn – and that was how much he would miss her if she did not survive this. He did not know if he could face the trials of his life – both the uncertain political times ahead of them and the genetic condition that had the potential to claim his life at any time – if Delenn wasn't there to support him.

But then Neroon had taken Delenn's place in the column of blue fire. Lennier had harbored so much resentment against the Warrior Caste official for so long – he had, after all, tried to assassinate Delenn – that he had scarcely been able to believe that Neroon would sacrifice himself for Delenn, despite the fact that Lennier had seen it play out before his own eyes. But in the end, Neroon saw what Lennier had always known – that Delenn was the person best fit to lead their people. Her willingness to sacrifice herself for the good of all Minbari and the loyalty she inspired were too important to let die. And so Neroon had perished in her place. With his help and sacrifice, Delenn had ended a war, just as she had begun one all those years ago. Lennier hoped that in time, that accomplishment of the former would help make up for the debt Delenn held in her heart for latter.

But now, a mere couple of months following the creation of the new Gray Council, was a delicate time. Lennier had never been so proud of anyone in all his life as he had been as he watched Delenn rebuild their world's ruling body. With it, he hoped, she laid the feet of the Minbari people on the path to recovery from this terrible war. But it would be a long process. Obviously not everyone agreed with the novel idea of having five of the Nine hail from the Worker Caste. Delenn's radical move had stirred both support and backlash in enormous quantities. And while Delenn wanted the new ruling body to stand on its own, they had needed much of her guidance since their formation. While she had been able to stay on Babylon 5, Delenn spent nearly all day every day in conference calls, advising the new Council. It was terribly unfair, Lennier thought, for this formative time for their people to fall while Delenn was still grieving for Neroon and recovering from her experience in the Starfire Wheel.

Lennier had, of course, stretched himself as thin as he could to help her, despite being in the process of recuperating from his emergency lung lobectomy. He had to admit that he was happy that particular experience had all happened so quickly – there had been less time for Delenn to worry about him. He had been on the operating table before she had even become aware that anything was wrong. She had later relayed the story to Lennier of running to the cruiser's sickbay with a bottle of his antibodies and hurrying through an explanation of his condition to a nurse. She had saved his life – the additional information had prompted Neroon's physician to seal the operating room, keeping Lennier's body from becoming contaminated with the bacteria that posed such a terrible threat to him. Luckily, his antibody titers had been high enough at the start of it all to give him just enough protection to stay free of infection until the infusion had taken over. But still, his healing had been slow – his immune system had never quite recovered from his bout of sepsis the previous year, and the stress of the war and the Starfire Wheel and the formation of the new Council had not exactly helped matters. The pain had finally subsided a couple of weeks ago, but he still found himself short of breath if he physically exerted himself too much. As always, Delenn encouraged him to take things slow and rest, but had he not hidden the extent of his pain from her, she likely would have made him take time off. But he knew she could not afford to be without her aide for any length of time – not now. So he learned to conceal his pain, to scream on the inside but show no outward reaction. And he continued to do whatever Delenn asked of him, and he recovered in his own time.

So when one day Lennier had awoken from another much too short sleep and suddenly needed to run to bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach, never once had he questioned whether he would perform his duties that day or not. He had rinsed his mouth, stood shakily, and gone on with his morning routine, with the exception of his breakfast. When he had gotten to Delenn's quarters, she had barely had the time to bid him a good morning before her conference call with one of the Religious Caste members of the new Council, Bhurli, began. It was strange, thought Lennier, that such discussions should be done over a communications channel. In the past, an audience with the Gray Council meant one paid a visit to their ship, the _Valen'Tha_ , no matter who you were. But much had changed, and out of deference to Delenn, the new _Satai_ had agreed to accommodate her need to be on Babylon 5 as the conflict with Earth grew ever worse.

Lennier's job in these electronic meetings was to keep a record of the conversation and research anything that might come up to question. He did far more of the former than the latter – Delenn was confident and very knowledgeable. The vast majority of the time, Lennier sat silently in the background, so it was mercifully easy to slip quietly to the bathroom when he needed to vomit. He hoped Delenn did not notice that he left twice. But even with his frequent absences, Lennier was able to follow the progression of the conversation well enough that his notes were mostly complete. As miserable as he felt, he took pride in that, at least.

By the time the call was over, it was noon. Delenn bid Bhurli farewell, hung up, and leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh. Her face looked drawn and weary. Lennier hated to see her like that. She had been through far too much recently to have so much heaped onto her shoulders.

"Tell me this will all work out, Lennier," she murmured, swiveling her chair around to face him. He hoped he did not look pale enough for her to notice he was ill. She had far too many things sapping her energy to need to worry about her aide having eaten something that did not agree with him. Delenn was wringing her hands, a sure sign that she was troubled.

"It will," he reassured her softly, and he honestly believed that it was the truth. "You are doing the right thing, Delenn. Someday, all of our people will see that as clearly as I do."

"Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am to have you to keep me on my path, _Ker'maier Ard'ka_?" murmured Delenn with an affectionate smile. Despite the uncomfortable roiling in his stomach, Lennier managed to smile back at her. " _Ker'maier Ard'ka_ " was a term of endearment Delenn had coined for him. In English, it meant "guiding light". Delenn had once told Lennier that he was a light for her footsteps, and that she could never make it through all of the difficult times they faced without him. Not long ago, Lennier would have thought she was overstating his importance to her just a bit. But ever since the illness that had nearly claimed Lennier's life the previous year, the relationship between himself and Delenn had become the strongest friendship he had ever known _anyone_ to have. They each were the other's confidant, advisor, comforter, and companion. Neither was whole without the other. And Lennier felt the same way about Delenn as she did about him – in the face of his dangerous health condition, she gave him the strength he needed to face each day.

He wished he had just a bit more of that strength now, however. He had been feeling progressively weaker throughout the morning. And to make matters worse, he was beginning to take a chill, which very likely meant he was coming down with a fever. If that was the case, it was going to be harder to conceal this from Delenn. If she knew he was ill, she would abandon everything to take care of him, and Lennier knew that she just could not afford to do that right now. He had likely only eaten something he should not have – with any luck, he would be feeling better by the next day, and completely recovered by the day after that. But if Delenn got so much as a suggestion that he was unwell, she would worry over him without cessation. She would undoubtedly insist he see Doctor Franklin, which was entirely unnecessary – Lennier had had his antibody titer checked the previous day, and it had been perfectly adequate. He had made sure to take an injection that morning, and would continue to do so twice a day until he felt better. He seriously doubted the doctor would do anything more for him. Lennier would be fine – all he had to do was hide his illness from Delenn.

Luckily, she did not seem to notice his less than ideal physical state just then.

"Is it only noon? It feels like I was on that call for an entire day! And my stomach has been growling for the past hour. I hope it could not be heard on the other end of the line." She laughed softly as she got to her feet and headed for the kitchen. "It is most certainly time for lunch, although I am afraid we do not have long to take it before our next call. Luckily, I have plenty of leftover _Almara_ meal from dinner last night – I will heat some up for the two of us."

"I am all right, thank you, Delenn." The very thought of eating _anything_ worsened his nausea ten-fold, and he was grateful Delenn had busied herself in the kitchen and therefore did not see him ball the bottom of his robe into his fist in an effort to distract himself until the worst of the discomfort abated.

Delenn glanced over her shoulder at him. "Are you sure? You ought to eat something, Lennier. We have a long afternoon ahead of us."

"I am still full from breakfast," he manufactured quickly, forcing a smile that he hoped disguised how miserable he really felt. "I had an extra large bowl of spiced porridge." He hated lying to her, but it really was better this way.

"Well, you were more prepared than I was. I suppose I should have eaten a bigger breakfast. I feel like I could eat all of the _Almara_ meal in the universe right now." She placed the container of leftovers into the reheater, and soon the smell of _Almara_ meal permeated her quarters. It would normally have been tantalizing – Lennier rather enjoyed _Almara_ meal – but now it made him need to throw all of his concentration into keeping what little remained in his stomach inside his body. Oblivious to his suffering, Delenn continued to tinker around in the kitchen, putting a kettle of tea on the stove and looking for clean mugs. She was going to turn around and see him struggling, he just _knew_ it, and then all of his efforts would have been for naught. But just then the BabCom beeped.

" _Incoming call from John Sheridan._ "

 _Thank you, Captain_. Lennier took a steadying breath and managed to push himself to his feet.

"I am sure you wish to speak to the Captain in private. Shall I rejoin you at twelve thirty?"

"Yes, thank you, Lennier." Delenn flashed him a quick smile as she pulled her food out of the reheater and went to sit in front of the screen. Lennier bowed, stifling a wince at the motion – his abdominal muscles were already beginning to feel sore from the unprecedented amount he had been using them that day. He left Delenn's quarters as she answered the call. Miraculously, Lennier managed to make it to his own quarters, the distance of two mere hallways seeming unending, before collapsing to his knees in front of his toilet and heaving with everything he had. He did not understand – surely there could hardly be anything left for him to bring up. But his body seemed convinced otherwise, and by the time he had finally finished it was all he could do to lean his forehead against the soothingly cool ceramic and shiver until he had to force himself to return to Delenn's quarters for the afternoon call.

This was not good. Not good at all.

Somehow, Lennier continued to struggle through his work, despite feeling progressively weaker and more miserable. By the time he returned to Delenn's quarters, she was just beginning the call, so he mercifully did not even have to interact with her. Normally, not having the time to talk to Delenn made Lennier feel sad and lonely – while of course he enjoyed being around her no matter what, he so loved just spending time with his best friend and being close to her without letting work get in the way. But today, he was grateful Delenn had no time for him, because the less she paid attention to him, the less likely she was to notice he wasn't well.

It turned out that Captain Sheridan saved him again, because the call at lunchtime had been to invite Delenn to dinner. It was to be a working dinner – with the conflict with Earth steadily approaching a boiling point, there was much to talk about and to strategize. But Lennier and Captain Sheridan had reached an unspoken understanding. When Lennier had spoken to _Satai_ Dukhat in a vision whilst he had been on the brink of death the previous year, the great religious leader and Delenn's former mentor had told him that Delenn and Sheridan were destined to be together.

" _Delenn and John Sheridan will together change the future of the galaxy. Their roles and fates are irrevocably intertwined, and their love for each other sealed."_

That knowledge had hurt at first, but Lennier had quickly come to realize that he and Delenn were also meant to be together - in a different way, yes, but a no less important or close one. Neither Delenn nor Sheridan knew of Lennier's vision, and therefore neither knew of their fate. But Lennier would do everything he could to protect the prophecies Dukhat had entrusted him with. And besides, Sheridan made Delenn happy, and there was nothing in the universe that Lennier wanted more than for Delenn to be happy. So he never intruded upon Sheridan's attentions to Delenn, nor did he hold them against him in any way. He did, however, keep a watchful eye from a distance when he could. Prophecy or no prophecy, if Sheridan _ever_ hurt Delenn, even in the slightest, Lennier would make the human captain wish he had never been born.

Likewise, Sheridan seemed to understand that Lennier posed no threat to him from a romantic standpoint. He knew that Delenn and Lennier were extremely close, and during Lennier's illness the previous year Sheridan had worked tirelessly for over a week to defer matter after pressing matter away from Delenn so she could spend all of her time at Lennier's side. Lennier did not think he would have survived that terrible time if Delenn had not been there for him while he had been so desperately ill. And while he knew she would have stayed with him anyway, Lennier was grateful to Sheridan for keeping her worries about the outside world to a minimum. But the captain clearly saw how much Lennier meant to Delenn, and to Lennier's admitted surprise, he had never tried to disturb their time together.

Lennier was not blind – he knew that Sheridan and Delenn's dinner tonight was only for the two of them. And he was more than all right with that. "Incredibly grateful" would be a more accurate term.

The call that afternoon was more heated than the one that morning, for Delenn was speaking to one of the representatives of the Warrior Caste. Tensions from the recent war still ran high between the Warrior Caste and the Religious Caste, and in typical Warrior fashion, the _Satai_ on the other end of the line, Mazetsch, spent what Lennier thought to be a ridiculous amount of time trying to assert Warrior policy, despite the fact that Delenn had made it abundantly clear that the bulk of the power was to belong to the Worker Caste. He got a bit hostile at one point, accusing Delenn of stacking the council in her favor. Despite his haze of nausea and exhaustion, Lennier bristled at this from his off-camera corner, but Delenn quickly shot back that if had not been for her, Mazetsch would not even _be_ on the Gray Council at all. The Warrior was only slightly more pliable after that, and by the time the call was over, Delenn was exhausted and frustrated.

"You would think he would show an ounce of gratitude for what I have done for him," she hissed as soon as the line had dropped. "Not that that is what bothers me, of course. I am worried that the moment I step out of this completely, should that moment ever come, the Warrior Caste will elbow their way in and seize control and everything will just go back to the horrible way it was." She breathed a shaky sigh and laid her head on her arms. Lennier's heart ached to see her so despondent. He stood and slowly walked over to sit next to her, policing his movements very carefully so she would not see him shivering, and laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"All will be well, Delenn. Never fear," he murmured, wishing that he had the strength to come up with comfort that was more specific and encouraging. But thankfully, that seemed to be enough for the moment. Delenn smiled gratefully but briefly up at him before her gaze caught the clock on the wall.

"I must get ready to meet with John. Thank you for your help today, Lennier, as always. I will see you the same time tomorrow morning for yet another round of…conversations." She sighed morosely and got to her feet. Lennier waited until she had turned away so he could take his time getting up and leaving. Delenn had been so mentally engaged in the call that afternoon, fielding questions and deflecting insults and catching attempts at thwarting her carefully laid plans, that Lennier was not particularly surprised that she had not noticed him leave three times. He was glad of this because it meant she was not going to worry about him, but it also reaffirmed his reasoning for concealing his illness from her. No, Delenn had far too much on her plate right now to be concerned with Lennier's silly little case of food poisoning.

When he arrived back at his quarters, Lennier resisted the urge to climb straight onto his bed and curl up as best he could at a forty-five degree angle to the ground. He had not taken a single thing to eat nor drink all day. And while Minbari could go two weeks without food without any serious consequences, Lennier knew that not drinking in addition to losing the amount of fluids he had that day meant that he would likely become dehydrated quite soon. So with trembling hands, he poured himself a glass of water and then took the tiniest of sips. He immediately regretted it – his queasiness intensified almost instantaneously, so much so that he nearly dropped the glass. He barely had time to set it on the counter and rush to the bathroom. As he retched helplessly and painfully, Lennier resigned himself to not trying _that_ again for the rest of the night.

Mercifully, he only needed to get up once that night, but he awoke the next morning with a headache and feeling like he had not gotten a wink of sleep, and he was no less nauseous than the previous day. Once again, he substituted an antibody injection for his breakfast and then dragged himself down the hall to Delenn's quarters. Unfortunately, she needed him to run an errand – picking up a package from the docking bay. The docking bay was all the way on the other side of the station from Green Sector, where they lived. Lennier needed to stop several times to lean surreptitiously against the wall when he thought no one was looking, only to have to summon all of his strength to straighten back up again when someone rounded a corner toward him. Luckily, the package was neither bulky nor heavy, but by the time he found himself back at Delenn's door, Lennier could barely keep his feet. He was cold and dizzy, and his nausea had gotten even worse. He wanted so much to go back to his quarters and lie down, but he knew he couldn't. Besides, he did not even know if he could manage to walk down another two hallways. It was as though his every last ounce of strength had been drained out of him. He took a couple of steadying breaths, pinched his cheeks so hopefully he would not look quite so pale, and walked through the door. Luckily, Delenn in the middle of yet another call and only briefly smiled in his direction when he entered, and Lennier was able to collapse in the corner without attracting any unwanted attention.

His headache worsened progressively throughout the day. He supposed it was a result of a combination of dehydration and fever. By the end of the day, none of his symptoms had subsided at all – he felt worse than ever. But all the same, he tried another miniscule sip of water when he got home that evening. It yielded the same result as the previous day.

By the third day, Lennier could hardly focus on what he was reading– his vision kept blurring when he looked at the data pad. He kept rubbing at his eyes – it helped, but only for a little while at a time. But Delenn had a couple of in-person meetings with other station ambassadors that day, and through some ironic twist of good fortune, she did not require Lennier's presence at either of them. Lennier put monumental effort into making himself look healthy as Delenn spoke directly to him, giving him instructions for what he was to do until she returned – scour the Minbari news outlets to see the public's reaction to the new Gray Council so far. Delenn had, after all, created the new Council to serve the people, and so the people were her most important source of feedback. And she wanted to stay on top of the responses as much as possible, so she could address problems as they arose. _She is so dedicated,_ Lennier thought _, even though sometimes it seems as though our entire world, or even the entire universe, is against her. Well, there is at least one Minbari who supports her. I just wish I could do a better job of it right now._

Delenn finished her description just then and looked to Lennier for confirmation that he understood. While concentrating on hiding his illness from her and fighting back his ever-worsening nausea, he had admittedly missed parts of what she had said. He hoped that he had gotten the general idea, and he forced a smile and a nod.

"Good. Thank you, Lennier – this information will be most helpful. I am sorry things have been so busy as of late. We are long overdue some time together outside of work. I promise I will make it up to you." Her sweet smile lessened his chill just a little.

"You are saving our world – the wait is worth it." His voice sounded weak to him, but the content of his words was thankfully what caught Delenn's attention.

"My sweet Lennier," she murmured affectionately, squeezing his arm before heading off to her first meeting. Mercifully, his robes had long sleeves, so she did not notice the heat radiating off of his skin. As soon as she was gone, Lennier let his façade drop entirely. He allowed himself a whimper of agony and a few seconds curled up on the couch before forcing himself to sit up and begin the duties Delenn had assigned him. But his head pounded and he was so shaky he could barely remain in a sitting position. He had hoped that by now, the third day, whatever this was would have run its course. But it was beginning to seem like this was no ordinary case of food poisoning. Of course not – what had he been thinking? Of course he could not just be a little bit ill – something had to go catastrophically wrong. His head pounded so hard that the room spun in front of him, and he pinched his temples, wincing. He was dehydrated, that much he knew. He really ought to have IV fluids. But if he went to Medlab, Delenn would know he was ill and then two and a half days of expert concealment would all go to waste. He could not worry her like that – not now. And he could not find himself out of commission, either. Delenn relied on him – she needed his report on the media outlets. He _needed_ to focus. He tried once more to turn his attention to his work, to push aside his discomfort like a good monk and carry on. He got through all of about thirty seconds of reading before his stomach rebelled yet again. In his weakness, he very nearly did not make it to the bathroom in time. But when he had finished, he splashed water on his face – it was a very un-Minbari-like thing to do, but he was desperate – and forced himself to carry on. He had a job to do, and he would do it because Delenn needed him. Serving her and making her life just the littlest bit easier made this all worth it. But Lennier was not sure how much more buried strength he had left to dredge up.

It took Lennier far longer than it should have to finish his assignment, but Delenn's second meeting went longer than they had anticipated. When she walked in at eighteen hundred hours, she thanked Lennier for his patience and told him they would go over his report the following day. She looked exhausted, and more distracted than ever. He wished he could inquire what the problem was and comfort and reassure her. But he could barely muster up the strength to bid her a good night.

By the next day, Lennier could barely get out of bed. His legs wobbled as they touched the floor, and he needed to hold the bed for support until he could get his balance. It took him nearly ten minutes to give himself his antibody injection because his hand shook so much that he could not drive the needle into his arm. When he had finished at long last, he stared longingly at the pitcher of water in his refrigerator, but he ultimately decided that trying to drink even a miniscule sip would undoubtedly backfire. But it turned out his sacrifice was in vain, for the mere motion of closing the refrigerator door and stepping backward was enough to set his head to pounding so furiously that stars danced across his field of vision. The stunning pain triggered a wave of nausea so strong he could never have hoped to fight it. The large bowl he had placed by his bed was closer than the bathroom. Lennier had no idea where his body kept finding more contents to put into it, but the heaves were by far the worst part. His abdominal muscles had been put through such grief over the past four days that he stifled a sob of pain as they involuntarily contracted.

It nearly fifteen minutes for him to recover, and as he straightened up slowly, the room spun and he clutched desperately for the side of the bed to steady himself. Luckily, he barely managed to keep both his balance and his consciousness. But the moment he had taken a few steps, one arm slung across his torso to support his sore abdomen and the other holding on the wall for stability, his queasiness returned full force. This wouldn't do. He was already late for work. Lennier was _never_ late, so the moment Delenn noticed, she would begin to worry. But there was no help for it – he could not fight it anymore.

His legs gave out just as he reached the toilet, and he clutched it for support. Its smooth hardness felt cold against his burning skin. After several retches, each more painful than the last, his body finally allowed him to stop vomiting. He _had_ to go to work – even though logically he knew he was past the point of being able to function, his fevered mind told him that it was imperative he still carry out his duties. He braced himself and tried to stand, but to his horror he found that his legs would not support him. Dizzying pain erupted in his head again at the movement, and he sank down with a whimper, pressing his cheek against the cool tile and shivering with fever and fatigue.

And then, distantly, he heard the door to his quarters swing open, and Delenn's voice calling his name.


	2. Around Aching Bones To My Restless Heart

_Oh, no._

"Just…just a moment," Lennier called back, but though he mustered every decibel of volume he could, he doubted she could hear him. He made another attempt to stand, but it was no use.

"Lennier?" Delenn called again, sounding a little closer to him this time. And then she was standing in the doorway, and he heard her gasp his name. Humiliation clawed at his already uncomfortable stomach at her having found him like this. And then she knelt down next to his crumpled form and he saw in her eyes that awful worry he had been trying so hard to prevent, and knowing he had caused that was the worst thing he had felt over the past four miserable days.

"Lennier, what is it?" Seemingly on instinct, she took his hand in one of her own and reached out to cup his face in her hand with the other. She winced when she touched his skin and felt how feverish he was. The love and concern in her eyes crumbled Lennier's resolve completely. He had failed in protecting her – he had gone and given her yet another thing to worry about. He tasted self-loathing that was as bitter as the bile in his mouth. But after four days of bearing this alone and continually getting worse, he had to admit that the oasis of her touch brought him just the smallest bit of relief.

"I don't think I'm well," he murmured helplessly.

"I would agree." Delenn looked from Lennier's prostrated form, to the toilet, and then back to Lennier again. He doubted she had any difficulty drawing the proper conclusions. "How long have you been ill?"

"Um…" He swallowed hard past a throat raw from acid exposure and tried to sit up. Delenn slipped a hand behind his back and helped him until he was able to lean with his back against the toilet. "Four days?"

"Four _days_?" Her gray eyes widened with horror. "Lennier, why didn't you say something?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at the floor, too ashamed to meet her eyes. The stupidity of what he had done suddenly hit him like an oncoming asteroid. Had he sought help at the beginning of all of this and rested rather forcing himself to continue working, he might not have gotten this ill. And then maybe Delenn would not have been quite so worried. "If I had the opportunity to do it over again, I would have told you. But you have been under such pressure with the new Council that I did not want to worry you. And I knew you needed my help, so I...I hid it."

"You have not been to Medlab?" He shook his head, dreading the reaction which came less than a second later. "But Lennier, you _know_ you are supposed to see Doctor Franklin immediately if you fall ill. You should have had your antibody titers checked days ago! You could be coming down with sepsis right now! Oh, how could I not have _seen_ this? Four days and I never even noticed something was amiss." She looked frightened and guilty and horrified, and Lennier's regret nearly overwhelmed him.

"Please do not blame yourself, Delenn," he whispered, finding that he needed to pull forward more strength to continue speaking with every sentence. But he _had_ to make her see that none of this was her fault. "You did not see that I was ill because I did not want you to, not through any fault of your own. And I had my titer checked the day before I started getting sick," Lennier reassured her. "It was fine, and I have been taking my injections twice a day since then."

The sharp edge of Delenn's fear seemed to dull, but that awful worry still dominated her features.

"All right," she murmured. "There is that, at least. But you still _should_ have said something and seen the doctor. I came so _close_ to losing you last time, Lennier…" Her voice trembled and she broke off, her bottom lip trembling.

"I know. And I'm so sorry, Delenn. I…I do not know what came over me. I tried to keep you from worry but all I've done is make everything worse." His voice broke and he stared at the floor once again. He felt Delenn take both of his hands into her own, but in his shame, he did not look up at her until she began to speak.

"Do not be sorry, my dear. I know you did what you did because you thought it was the best thing for me. I wish very much that you had not done it, but I know you well enough to understand your motivations in this matter. And I _also_ know you well enough to know that you will torment yourself about this to no end. So please know that all is forgiven, Lennier." Exhausted though Lennier was, he searched her gaze thoroughly, and he saw that she was not just saying this to make him feel better. "I do not want you feeling guilty about anything, all right? You need to focus all of your energy on getting well."

"All…all right," Lennier whispered. He managed a small smile in return for her much bigger one, but the effect was ruined as yet another wave of nausea washed over him, and he failed to suppress the whimper it elicited.

"Have you been vomiting since all of this started?" asked Delenn, her anxiety becoming even more apparent when he nodded.

"I…I thought it was only a virus that would go away in a day or two. But I just kept getting worse. I can't keep anything down, even water. And I've got the worst headache I've ever had," he whispered hopelessly, his face contorting into a wince as his head throbbed on cue.

Delenn bit her lip. "You are probably terribly dehydrated. We must get you to Medlab. Come, you can lie down on the couch while I call Doctor Franklin – it is closer than the bed."

"Oh, Delenn," Lennier murmured hopelessly. "I don't think I even have the strength to stand."

He did not miss yet another flash of concern in her eyes, although she concealed it quickly. "Well, it is a good thing I am here to help you then." She held out her hand with a soft smile, and he accepted it. Then, she slipped her other hand around his back and pulled him as gently as she could to his feet as he used her as an anchor against his spinning world. It was an apt metaphor for their relationship, he thought with an ironic inner chuckle. But just then he swayed dangerously, and he was forced to turn all of his attention to not falling over.

"Good," Delenn told him when he was, at long last, halfway steady on his feet. "Now, let us take this one tiny step at a time, all right?"

"All right." Lennier's voice shook with fever and fatigue as he spoke, but he knew Delenn would not let him fall. And so, with nearly all of his body weight resting on her, taking slow and miniscule steps, Lennier finally found himself at his couch. Delenn lowered him on to it, and he immediately curled up on his side. Walking only those few steps from the bathroom had aggravated his tender abdomen and worsened his queasiness again. Delenn brought over a fresh bowl from the kitchen and the blanket from his bed and tucked it lovingly around him.

"Doctor Franklin might make you take this off," she warned him, "but though you are quite feverish I do not think your temperature is at a dangerous level just yet. And you looked like you were having chills."

"I am," he murmured, his voice muffled from where the side of his face was pushed up against the couch. After the coldness of the bathroom tile, the blanket was a welcome change. But though the warmth was an improvement, he could not seem to find a position that did not irritate his uncomfortable abdomen. After several attempts at adjusting himself, he gave up with a defeated sigh. Delenn squeezed his shoulder sympathetically.

"I will call Doctor Franklin now. He will have medicine to help with your nausea." She started to turn away, but Lennier rather impulsively reached out and caught her hand.

"Delenn," he murmured, and she turned back around to regard him with an inquiring expression. "Thank you." _And I really am sorry._

"You are very welcome, my sweet Lennier." She pressed his hand briefly before heading over to the BabCom unit on the other side of the room. He heard her speaking, low and quiet, with the doctor, but he did not have the energy to try to discern what they were saying. He shut his eyes and tried his very hardest to ignore the ache in his abdomen and the throbbing in his head and how cold he felt, even with the blanket. After a couple of minutes, Delenn returned and he felt her take his hand and begin to run her thumb over his knuckles. It was the same motion she had employed so often while he had been ill with sepsis the previous year. It had begun as a way for her to soothe him when he had been in the throes of a terrifyingly high fever, but Lennier suspected that it had quickly become just as important in Delenn's comfort. She had been so distressingly worried about him while he had been ill – even when the fever had rendered him confused and delirious he could feel it radiating off of her. Lennier had been so busy dealing with trying to sort out his feelings for Delenn that he had not realized until it was nearly too late how much he meant to her – not as a lover, but as the dearest of friends. She had been there at his side every moment of his illness and early recovery, and she had been a consistent and reliable presence throughout his extended convalescence. He honestly did not believe he could have pulled through if Delenn had not been there for him, but the strength she had conveyed to him had cost her terribly. The worry had taken its toll on her, and Lennier had sworn never again to cause her pain if he could absolutely help it. He had nearly walked away from her forever to spare her agony before she had shown him the error of his thought process.

But he had failed in that this week. Delenn would have been worried at any threat to his health, of course – being ill was beyond his control. But he should have told her sooner. Now he was too weak to stand and so dehydrated he could scarcely see straight. And Delenn was _worried_ , and Lennier could not blame her. He knew he had promised her he would not torment himself with feelings of guilt, but it would take more than words to banish the remorse and self-loathing that racked him just as strongly as his nausea.

Lennier lay as still as he could. If he concentrated solely on the soft, even motion of Delenn's thumb on his knuckles, he could _almost_ block out the worst of the pain and discomfort. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Delenn squeezed his hand and then let go.

"He is over here," he heard her say softly from across the room. "He says his head hurts and that he feels chilled. And he could barely walk from the bathroom to the couch, even with my help. I don't think he's kept a single thing down for the past four days."

"If he really is that dehydrated, it's a wonder he's still conscious." Franklin's voice sounded both impressed and slightly annoyed. Lennier could not blame him. "Every time I work on a Minbari, I am continually surprised at how hardy your people are."

"In general, we are," murmured Delenn, and Lennier heard her voice tremble as she went on. "But I worry so much about Lennier's health. I do not think I can bear to go through a repeat of last year, and I do not know if he can, either."

 _I will be all right, Delenn. Please don't worry about me._ Lennier stirred and tried to sit up, but Franklin, who had reached the couch by that point, laid a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

"No no, it's okay. You can stay lying down. I know you're feeling really weak. I just want to get a look at you to make sure you're stable."

"I'm all right," Lennier mumbled, despite the fact that he felt anything but.

Franklin chuckled softly. "I think I'm going to have to professionally overrule you on that one." He waved his scanner over Lennier, and the humor in his expression diminished significantly. "Your heart rate's up and your blood pressure's down, and you've got a temp of one-oh-two. All signs point to severe dehydration, and I think you're a little shocky. When was the last time you urinated?"

It hurt Lennier's head to try to think back – his mind felt sluggish, and suddenly he just wanted Franklin to stop talking to him so he could go to sleep.

"I…I don't remember," he answered honestly. "I haven't needed to."

"Okay." Franklin's voice embodied a practiced calmness, but it did not feel quite genuine. "I'm going to go ahead and take you to Medlab now so we can make sure your kidneys are working okay, and we'll get some fluids into you. I think you'll feel a lot better once you're rehydrated."

"You think there is something wrong with his kidneys?" Lennier's heart broke at the fear in Delenn's voice. One of the sequelae of his bout of sepsis the previous year had been acute kidney failure. With dialysis and careful fluid administration,

Doctor Franklin had been able to buy Lennier enough time for the vital organs to heal themselves. But for several days, there had been a question as to whether or not they would regain full function. Delenn was no doubt having flashbacks to that terrible time.

"It's very likely just the dehydration," Franklin reassured her. "But having one acute kidney injury does make you prone to further episodes, and severe dehydration is one of the things that can mess with your kidneys. I just want to make sure he's okay, that's all."

Delenn clasped her hands together in front of herself so tightly that her knuckles went white, and Lennier felt a sudden flash of anger toward Doctor Franklin. He wished the doctor had told him about this before - if he had known about the possibility of damage to his kidneys, he would have been more likely to go to Medlab when all of this started. But then again, Doctor Franklin _had_ told him to come and see him at _any_ sign of illness. No, this was all Lennier's fault. He had no one to be angry with but himself.

"Okay, Lennier. Do you think you can sit in a wheelchair?" Franklin interrupted his inner guilt trip with the question. Lennier started to nod, but realized that the motion was probably not the best thing for his head just then.

"Y…yes. I think so," he murmured instead. He felt that he _could_ manage, but barely. It seemed as though all the effort he had put into maintaining functionality over the past four days had caused him to be running on a deficit; now that he had finally given in to the illness, he it was as though his body was quickly realizing that every single reserve of its strength had been used up.

The doctor and Delenn helped Lennier sit up slowly, and once the most intense part of the dizziness brought on by the motion subsided, they hoisted him into the wheelchair that Franklin had brought with him. Franklin stepped out to call the nurses to have tests and a bed ready, leaving Delenn with Lennier. The act of sitting was less comfortable than Lennier would have liked – it made his abdomen go from uncomfortable to downright painful, and he instinctively doubled over. Seeing his reaction, Delenn immediately took his hand in both of her own.

"Everything will be all right, Lennier," she murmured. "Doctor Franklin will get you all mended. And I will be right here with you."

That was what he had been afraid of - one of the reasons he had tried so hard to conceal this from her.

"But Delenn, the Council…" Lennier wished he could make himself sound more convincing and less pitiful.

"Needs to learn to stand on its own two feet." Her eyes blazed with that noble stubbornness Lennier had come to admire so much in her – and had begun to emulate a bit himself. "One would think that they are incapable of making any decisions for themselves. When I chose them, I did not think they would require _this_ much guidance. It almost makes me question my decisions."

"Giving them less advice is one thing, but cutting them off completely is another." Lennier found he needed to actively summon forward more strength with every word he spoke – strength which was so depleted he could barely remain in a sitting position. "Delenn, like it or not, you are what is holding our world together. And if it fell apart now, I would feel responsible."

"It would not be your fault, Lennier," Delenn said immediately. "You have done nothing but bring honor to our world, and to me." Lennier's heart fluttered with pride, and he managed a weak smile at the compliment. Delenn went on. "But although I do not like it, I suppose you are right. I was the one who brought this great change upon our people. It is my duty to see them through." She sighed despondently, suddenly looking so careworn and burdened that Lennier's heart broke for her. "But I _want_ to stay with you, Lennier. I swore I would be there for you when you needed me, just as you are always there for me. And if this gets bad…"

"I shall be just fine, Delenn," Lennier reassured her. "Please save your worries for other matters."

"But you do not _know_ you will be fine," she protested. "You cannot be certain. I so very nearly lost you twice over the past year, and I could not bear to live in a universe without you in it. I could not do what I have been without you, _Ker'maier Ard'ka_."

"I will be here," he murmured. "I have, after all, sworn myself to your side." He pulled his hand out of hers and laid it over them. The fire finally seemed to go out of Delenn's protest, leaving only worry and love in its wake.

"I will at the very least go with you to Medlab and stay there until the doctor has run his tests and you are settled. Then we will see where to go from there."

"Thank you." Lennier, of course, _wanted_ Delenn to stay with him. He would be lying if he said he could not do with some comfort right now, and no one could bring him that comfort in the way Delenn could. But he needed to bear this with strength, even if he felt as though he had none left. Delenn needed to attend to more pressing matters than him, and after the grievous error Lennier had committed, he did not feel as though he deserved to have her by his side at all. But all the same, the thought of her being there with him made him feel as though he could face so much more than he could alone.

A chill struck him just then, and he shivered. Delenn took the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders, taking care to tuck it in in just the right places so that it covered as much of him as possible without dragging on the ground where it might be caught within the wheels of the chair. Lennier managed the smallest of grateful smiles just as the doctor came back in to fetch them.

Lennier was not unaccustomed to being pushed through the hallways of the station in a wheelchair – he had been every day for several weeks as he went to and from Medlab for checkups while he was recovering from sepsis. But all the same, he really had hoped he would not have to endure it again, or at least not so soon. It was horribly humiliating, and he hated needing to rely on others for things. Lennier's entire life prior to four years ago had been spent learning that there was no higher blessing than to be able to serve others. After his recovery from his illness the previous year, he had been so happy to be able to attend to Delenn once more – she was, of course, his favorite person to serve. It was not only that he had been trained to do so – it genuinely brought him joy. But now Lennier was weak and helpless again. He could not serve Delenn, or protect her. And knowing that made him feel all the worse.

But as Franklin rolled him to Medlab, Lennier began to find it harder and harder to remain sitting upright in the chair. His short conversation with Delenn had left him utterly spent, and he shivered despite his blanket, hoping Delenn didn't see. Then, just as the automatic Medlab doors slid open to let them in, his nausea returned full force, hitting him like a tidal wave. He curled in on himself with a strangled whimper. Luckily Franklin, with his well-honed attentiveness to his patients' needs, caught the signs just in time. He dove for a nearby supply closet and retrieved a large bowl, whose purpose Lennier imagined might be exactly what he was using it for.

And then commenced Lennier's most painful bout of vomiting yet. It was as though his body had gotten rid of everything it possibly could a long time ago, but had forgotten to tell his stomach. His frightfully sore abdominal muscles contracted hard as though trying to wring out every last thing they could. He tried but could not manage to stifle a soft cry at the pain. It was not until he had finally finished and was left hunched over the bowl, nearly unable to grip it because his entire body shook so hard, that he realized Delenn had knelt down beside the wheelchair and was slowly running the back of her hand repetitively over his temple.

"I know, my dear, you feel just miserable," she murmured. "It is all right, I am right here."

Lennier's insides burned with embarrassment that she should see him like this, but as he shivered helplessly, her soothing voice reached out to his heart.

"Let's get you into bed and get some fluids going," said Franklin once it was clear Lennier was not going to lose control of his stomach again right at that _particular_ moment. He pushed the chair into a room in the general ward, and he and Delenn helped Lennier get into bed.

"See? I made sure to angle it properly this time," Franklin told Delenn with a grin. Delenn afforded him a small smile as she tucked a blanket over Lennier, acknowledging the doctor but keeping the vast majority of her attention focused on her ailing friend. As soon as his body touched the bed, Lennier turned onto his side and curled up as tightly as he could, his torso resting on the angled half of the bed. Franklin soon had a blood sample drawn and an IV catheter in place, and then to it he attached a line containing fluids, Lennier's antibody solution, and broad-spectrum antibiotics. He also set up a syringe pump to administer a dose of anti-nausea medication over five minutes.

"Whether or not this turns out to be a bacterial infection, with your predispositions we definitely want to have antibiotics on board," he explained. "Hopefully this will help keep you from getting a secondary infection while your immune system's down, and keep the _Pseudocyanin_ at bay as well. I want to do a full body scan now – that should be able to tell us if this infection is bacterial or viral, and if it's spread to your bloodstream or not."

His voice quieted as he spoke that last part, and Lennier heard Delenn take a shuddering breath next to him. Regret and self-loathing roiled in his tender stomach again. If he had come to Medlab sooner, there would be a far less risk of this. He had thought he could control this by taking his injections and banking on the fact that his antibody titer had been normal a few days ago. But he realized now that he had been dangerously overconfident. He was not a doctor – he could not see all ends in this situation. If he were now the only one suffering from his mistake, it would not be so bad. But for Delenn to suffer as well…oh, _how_ could he have done this?

Franklin went to make sure the scanner was prepared while a nurse came in to fetch Lennier. As he secured the drip and unlocked the brakes on the cot, Delenn squeezed Lennier's hand.

"I will be here when you come back," she promised him. And though he felt that familiar, badly needed comfort flood through him as she spoke, the situation felt all too horribly familiar - Lennier confined to a Medlab bed, feeling miserable and feverish, with Delenn next to him, reassuring him despite her own fear that all would be well and that she would not leave him. The last time this had happened, the situation had been quite dire. And while Lennier knew that he did not deserve to be spared it happening again, Delenn certainly did. He hoped fervently for her sake that the test results were relatively benign.

The scanner was located in its own room. Lennier knew he had been tested by the machine before the previous year, but he had been very feverish and heavily sedated while it was occurring and therefore did not recall the experience. Franklin and the nurse helped Lennier onto the bench in the scanner. Lennier tensed – the machine was a narrow tube in which his body barely fit. The last time he had been in such surroundings, he had been crawling through the Minbari cruiser's ventilation ducts, coughing in the poisoned air and not knowing if he would meet his death in that claustrophobic tunnel. To make matters worse, the scanner's bench was flat, which he instinctively maligned due to his culture's beliefs that lying horizontally meant tempting death.

And then, as though to add insult to injury, in order for the scans to show up properly, Lennier needed to lay on his back, which he currently preferred much less than his side. Being on his back meant his abdomen was even more painful than before, and he could not obey his instinctive need to guard it with the rest of his body. He squirmed uncomfortably, but Franklin laid a hand on his arm to still him.

"I know it doesn't feel good. It'll be over in just a couple of minutes, I promise. But you have to lie still, or we'll have to redo the scan."

So Lennier did his best to control his shivering as he lay uncovered on the cold table. Despite his efforts, they needed to repeat the scan twice because of his shakes, but finally Franklin signaled to the nurse that they were finished. The instant he was back in his angled, rolling cot, Lennier balled himself up tightly so that every bit of him, with the exception of his head, was underneath the blanket Delenn had given him. Then, while Franklin interpreted the results of the scan, the nurse rolled Lennier back to his room, where Delenn sat waiting. She got to her feet the moment she saw Lennier and immediately began tucking in the edges of his blanket around him as they had been before the scan. He tried to smile at her, hoping to convey a combination of gratitude and reassurance, but he just could not muster the strength. Suddenly, despite his desperate desire to comfort Delenn, he felt as though he could not keep his eyes open. He dozed lightly as Delenn stroked his knuckles with her thumb.

A few minutes later, Lennier opened his eyes reluctantly at the sound of Franklin's voice quietly calling his name.

"Hey, Lennier. I've taken a look at your test results."

Lennier glanced at Delenn, who was still sitting at his side with his hand in hers. Her deeply troubled gaze was fixed on Franklin. Lennier managed to maneuver his thumb out of her grasp and run it a couple of times over the skin of her hand. It seemed as though she needed even more comfort than he did right now. She pressed his hand in return.

"For starters, you'll both be relieved to know that was no evidence of sepsis on the scan, nor is there any evidence of kidney dysfunction." Lennier felt the worst of the tension leave Delenn's hand as she breathed a soft sigh of relief. "Thanks to the fact that you've been taking your injections twice a day, Lennier, your antibody titer is okay – not great, but okay. I'm still going to keep you on a CRI for a while, at least until you start to feel better. According to the scan, the organism causing your infection is viral, not bacterial. We'll run titers to determine exactly what it is. But I have a strong suspicion it's some kind of food poisoning and, between your illness last year and the incident with your lung a couple of months ago, your body just isn't fighting it properly. Of course, had it been brought here and given the tools it needed about three days ago, it might have had a better chance." Franklin paused and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. Chagrin churned within Lennier.

"I know. I made a terrible mistake, and I am not the only one paying for it. My shame knows no bounds, and although Delenn has assured me that I have her forgiveness, I do not feel as though I deserve it."

"Lennier," murmured Delenn, eyes wide with distress. "You promised me you would not worry about this any further…"

"And I am trying," he whispered, shutting his eyes as his head underwent a particularly painful throb. "But I am afraid it is not so easy as that." He could see in her eyes that he was making things even worse, so he fell silent. Franklin clearly saw that Lennier would not be making this same mistake again, and he did not press the matter further.

"Is the ondansetron kicking in?" he asked. "You should start to feel less nauseous any time now."

"I am not experiencing much of a difference, I am afraid." Lennier did not _want_ to be honest about this – he wished so much that he had at least a small amount of good news, especially for Delenn's sake. But he was finished concealing things – it had not worked out well last time.

Franklin furrowed his brow. "Hmmm. I'll boost the dose a little bit and see if that helps. You should try to get some sleep now – rest is one of the most vital things you'll need to fight this. Do you need anything else right now?"

"No, thank you," whispered Lennier, attempting to curl up even more tightly and closing his eyes. What he truly wanted was to be left alone with Delenn, for her to be close to him and murmur words of comfort. But Delenn had more important things to do than sit with him. So Lennier would lie as still as he could and try his hardest not to think about how terribly sick he felt.

Franklin installed another syringe of the anti-nausea medicine into the pump and then took his leave. Once he was gone, Delenn slowly began to run her hand up and down Lennier's upper arm through the thin hospital gown. Lennier opened his eyes, and purposefully met hers. Not long ago he would never have performed such a bold gesture. But Delenn, despite still being his superior in title, was his best friend. And she deserved to be looked in the eyes when apologized to.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, managing to hold her gaze for a full second before lowering his in shame.

"I know. So am I. I should have seen this." Lennier began to protest, but Delenn shook her head, silencing him. "I know you are very good at hiding such things when you wish to, but for you to have been ill for four days and me not noticed that _anything_ was wrong…" She broke off, clenching her fists seemingly on instinct, and then crossed her arms over her chest, as though hugging or trying to protect herself. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible, with a nearly imperceptible tremor.

"After what happened last year, I swore I would _never_ neglect you like that again. But I have, and of course now you are paying the price for my negligence. I ought to have known you would hide illness from me. With your condition and especially with having undergone emergency surgery so recently, I should have kept a much closer eye on you. You deserve a much better friend than I have been, Lennier. And I am so sorry."

"Delenn, it is I who do not deserve you," Lennier murmured. He wished he could eloquently back up his case as she had, but suddenly he began to feel very sick again, and he had no choice but to stop talking. He swallowed, eyelids pressed tightly together, and Delenn quickly offered him the bowl from the nightstand. But the wave lessened after a few seconds and Lennier was able to open his eyes again.

"We could go round and round like this all day," sighed Delenn. "But I am afraid that self-loathing and regret will not help either of us. When it is all said and done, Lennier, I just want you to get well."

"I know. And I'm trying." _Believe me, I'm trying._

"I know you are." She ran a hand from where his headbone met his forehead, tracing his cheek down to the point of his chin. "My sweet Lennier. You have been ill far too often and too badly as of late. For fate to have dealt someone as kind as you such a turn is terribly unfair. But you are brave and strong, and for that I am proud of you."

 _Oh, Delenn, your words and your presence are of such comfort to me. How I wish you could stay with me._

"Would it be a display of that strength if I gently reminded you that there are calls you should be taking?"

Delenn's shoulders slumped. "Yes. And I know I should go. But you are _ill_ , Lennier."

"You heard Doctor Franklin – it is likely only a reaction to something I ate."

"With you, there is no such thing as a simple illness. And we both know it," Delenn pointed out sternly.

She was right. He could not argue with her. "I am sure Doctor Franklin will let you know immediately if anything goes wrong. Which it will not," he reassured her.

The look in her eyes said that she did not believe in the least that he knew that for certain. She took his hand where it rested on the bed sheet.

"Do you _want_ me to stay?"

"Of course." How could she even ask such a thing? She knew the answer. But he supposed she was trying to give him an opportunity to deal with his guilt. "But we both know there are more important issues that need tending to right now."

Delenn sighed shakily. "All right. I will come back just as soon as I can. You get some rest, all right?"

"All right." Lennier did not anticipate any trouble there. Despite the nausea, the chill, and the pain in both his head and abdomen, he was so sleepy he could barely keep up his end of the conversation.

Delenn squeezed his hand one more time before letting go. And then she was gone, and Lennier was alone in the little hospital room. Once he was sure Delenn was out of earshot, he allowed himself a whimper as he tried to adjust his position on the bed. He was not just nauseous – he _hurt_. He supposed it was only fair that he suffer more for putting Delenn through was he was. But all the same, he was not at all looking forward to the difficult time which no doubt lay ahead.


	3. Civil Unrest

"The people are…nervous, Delenn." _Satai_ Dhaliri of the Religious Caste sounded a little unsettled herself. "Zakat tells me the repairs are behind schedule because of civil unrest. It has been only isolated incidents, but with everything that has happened recently, I must admit I am concerned that they will escalate."

Delenn sat forward in her chair. "What do you mean, 'civil unrest'?"

"Minor brawls, mostly. The vast majority of them have been incited by members of the Warrior Caste." She sniffed disapprovingly. "And the conflicts have been mostly amongst themselves. Some of them accept the new way of things; others do not. This dissent appears to be dividing their caste. And of course as Warriors, they do not know how to settle their differences without bloodshed."

"That is enough, Dhaliri," said Delenn sternly. "Do not forget, as Gray Council, you represent a new era of understanding between the castes. If you allow your thoughts and your tongue to be so judgmental of another caste, you set the wrong example for our people, who are in such desperate need of guidance." The _Satai_ lowered her eyes, and Delenn softened her voice. "I know the wounds from the war are still fresh – I cannot blame you for that. But we must move beyond our pain if we are to hope to make a better future for Minbar."

"You are right, Delenn. Forgive me." Delenn dipped her head in acknowledgement, and Dhaliri went on. "When you asked me to join the new Gray Council, I was so excited to be a part of healing our broken world. I suppose I should have realized then how difficult it would be."

"Destroying is easy. Rebuilding is what is difficult." Delenn smiled softly despite the painful truth of the matter. "But your report of these skirmishes within the Warrior Caste disturbs me. I know we will not sway everyone to our way of thinking – such is the nature of politics and freethinking, and I would not have it any other way. But I do not wish for anyone else to get hurt over it, and I am afraid that if they are allowed to continue, the problem will only get worse."

"I agree," said Dhaliri with a nod. "But would should we do about it?"

Delenn smiled conspiratorially. "I was hoping you might tell me."

Dhaliri looked stunned and vaguely frightened for a moment before chuckling softly.

"Are you trying to wean us off of your advice?"

"I cannot assist you forever," Delenn reminded her gently. "I know that this is the first time in a thousand years the Gray Council consists entirely of new members, and that this fact combined with massive changes our world is undergoing is making this incredibly difficult on all nine of you. But slowly, you all must learn to make decisions yourselves, and to function as a group. It will take time, I know. But you can start your learning process by telling me what your plan for dealing with these fights is."

"I do not suppose the answer 'pray for guidance' would satisfy you?" Dhaliri uttered a harsh chuckle, but she looked nervous. Delenn spoke gently to try to waylay her discomfort.

"As a member of the family of the Temple Priests, I would say that it would. But as _Satai_ , I would say that in addition to thinking like one of the Religious Caste, you must also think like one of the Warrior Caste, and of the Worker Caste. You serve all Minbari, not just the Religious Caste. The needs and motivations of all must be taken into consideration when making decisions."

Dhaliri thought hard. "The Warrior Caste would probably say that an increased police presence near the areas of the disturbances, particularly the temples, would help to curb the violence. But the Religious and Worker Castes want a peaceful solution, without anyone feeling as though their right to express what they feel and believe is compromised."

"Very good," Delenn told her. "And what do _you_ say?"

"I believe we are going to need some kind of increased peace enforcement, or else the problem will only escalate. But of course I do not want anyone to get hurt. Besides, if there is an injury when the police are involved, it will only worsen the situation." She sighed, sounding just as tired as Delenn felt. "There is no easy answer, Delenn."

"There rarely is," Delenn reassured her. "But your thought process is sound. I would say a _small_ increase in peace enforcement would be warranted for the sake of hopefully preventing further injuries, but not enough to cause alarm. And the most important thing, I think, is to encourage the people to express themselves with words, not violence. Invite them to tell you what they think, what their concerns and needs are. The most effective way to serve the people is allow them to tell us what we can do for them. But do not take my word as law – I would encourage you to discuss this matter with the rest of the council, as with all matters any of you have discussed with me. It is only through discussion and understanding of one another that you will truly learn to work together."

Dhaliri triangled her hands and bowed. "You are very wise, Delenn. Thank you for your sage advice."

Delenn returned her bow. "I hope it serves you well. Now, if there is nothing else for the time being, I am afraid I must go."

"Of course. I have taken far too much of your time already, I fear. May the blessings of Valen be upon you."

"And you," echoed Delenn as the line terminated. The traditional parting, which had once come so automatically to her, now felt strange upon her tongue. Her perspective had changed so much when she had realized that the larger than life religious figure who had appeared to her when she had wandered into a temple while lost in Yedor as a small child was merely her dear friend, Jeffrey Sinclair. She sighed shakily, wishing he or Dukhat were there to advise her now. With them long gone and Neroon dead and Lennier now unable to assist her, she felt so terribly alone in this challenging time, when so much weighed upon her shoulders that she felt she might collapse.

As though it could read her thoughts or sense her loneliness, the door chime rang. Delenn drew a deep breath and composed herself despite her physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion.

"Come."

Marcus Cole stepped over the threshold, his Ranger's robes fluttering behind him, and bowed. Vir Cotto followed immediately behind him, smiling shyly.

"Good evening, Delenn," Marcus greeted her. Vir offered a little wave.

"Is it evening?" She glanced at the clock. It was evening indeed – it was very nearly 1830. She had moved back her call with Dhaliri to talk to _Satai_ Kats of the Worker Caste, whose call she had missed that morning. The result had been an even later day than usual.

Vir grimaced sympathetically. "Long day?"

She nodded and sighed. "It seems as though I have done nothing but work since we returned from Minbar over a month ago. With the new Gray Council in its infancy and my world undergoing both repairs and monumental changes, I am afraid my responsibilities are continuing to increase in number. The end result will be worth it, but it will be a long and difficult journey." She stood and stretched. "I am making some tea. Would you like some?"

"That's kind of you, but I'm afraid I must decline," said Marcus, and Vir nodded his agreement. "We only stopped by to see if Lennier was here. It's been ages since the three of us had a movie night."

Vir chimed in then. "We know the both of you have been busy, but we miss him, and we thought it might be nice for him to have a few hours with his friends without needing to think about work. Of course, it would be nice for you as well – you're always invited. Anyway, we stopped by his quarters and he wasn't there."

Delenn bit her lip. Lennier had been in the back of her mind all day. She had intended to go back to Medlab to visit him as soon as her call ended. She knew Doctor Franklin would have called her immediately if anything serious had happened, but she still could not help but worry about her friend. Any illness that afflicted Lennier had the strong potential to get very bad very quickly. Marcus also knew about Lennier's genetic condition, and though Vir did not, he was aware that their friend's immune system was not as strong as it should be following his battle with sepsis the previous year. Both of them would be terribly worried about him when they heard he was ill. But of course Delenn had to tell them where their friend was.

"I am afraid Lennier isn't likely to be able to come to a movie night for at least a few days. He is in Medlab with a fever of one hundred and two and an awful stomachache. He got so dehydrated that Doctor Franklin had to give him fluids."

Marcus's blue eyes widened. "Will he be all right?"

"I hope so. He came to work ill for three days and never mentioned a thing about it to me. He wrote notes and fetched packages while he should have been in bed, and I am afraid that's made matters all the worse. Doctor Franklin says the best thing for it is rest and supportive care, but you know how easily Lennier could take a turn for the worse." Delenn sighed and sat back down, no longer feeling like drinking tea. Marcus came to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and after a moment's hesitation, Vir took the chair across from her. Delenn felt Marcus clandestinely lay a hand on her arm. He knew just how dangerous illness of any sort was for Lennier. When Lennier had found out about his genetic condition, he had chosen not to tell Vir because he had not wanted to worry him. So besides the station's medical staff, Delenn and Marcus were the only people who knew. There was no way Lennier could have concealed it from Delenn, and he had bared his secret in a moment of honesty between himself and Marcus. But Lennier had not wanted to be treated any differently because of his condition, so he had told as few people as possible.

"Do you think he'd be up for visitors?" inquired Vir. "It might be nice for him to know we're thinking about him."

Delenn glanced at Marcus, who also looked hopeful.

"I was just about to go to Medlab to see him. If he is awake and not feeling too much worse than he was this morning, I am certain he would love some visitors."

Vir and Marcus eagerly got to their feet, their enthusiasm and concern making Delenn smile a little bit. She was so glad Lennier had made friends on the station. He was so introverted and focused on his duties that she knew it would be quite easy for him to sequester himself, lost in his work and lonely, if he did not have people who cared about him to keep him on the right path. Marcus and Vir respected his privacy, but still offered him companionship and care. And Lennier offered it right back to them, and would forevermore – such was the depth of his loyalty. Between herself, Marcus, and Vir, Lennier had people who cared for him very much, which was something she knew he needed, this past year more than ever.

Delenn grabbed her favorite shawl from her closet, and the three of them headed off across the station. Doctor Franklin happened to be passing by the door just as they entered Medlab.

"Hey, Delenn, Marcus, Vir."

"Hello, Doctor. How is Lennier?" asked Delenn quickly, eager to know how her dear friend was faring.

Franklin sighed, and Delenn's heart plummeted. "For some reason, the ondansetron doesn't seem to be touching his nausea. I don't understand – it commonly has varying levels of efficacy, but the vast majority of patients experience at least _some_ relief. But Lennier doesn't seem to be getting anything from it at all."

"Is he worse?" Delenn was afraid to know the answer.

"He's no better. He woke up and vomited a couple of times around noon, but after that he seemed to settle down and went back to sleep. His fever's a little higher, so I'm keeping a close eye on that. He can keep his blanket for now, but if it gets too much higher I'm going to have to put him on cooling pads. I don't mess around with high fevers in Minbari. He's rehydrated, though, and I think it's helped his headache a bit. Anyway, I was just in there checking on him and he woke up, so now's probably a good time to visit him."

"Thank you, Doctor." Franklin's report did nothing at all to ease Delenn's concerns, and she hurried down the hall to her friend's room, Marcus and Vir at her heels.

Lennier was still laying on his side beneath his blanket, eyes closed, attached to an IV line. He was paler than even a Minbari should be, and for a moment Delenn thought he might have fallen asleep during the brief period of time between Franklin having left the room and the three of them entering it. But then he opened his eyes. His gaze met hers immediately, and he managed a small smile.

"Delenn." There was such relief in his voice, and Delenn felt sick herself when she thought of him suffering without her there to comfort him. Even if Lennier was not life-threateningly ill, as he had been last year when she had sat at his side for ten days without interruption, he still did not deserve to suffer alone. Delenn felt a flash of anger at the universe for forcing her to choose between the world she loved and the friend she treasured. Her Religious Caste training told her she should trust the universe's natural tides of fate. But her heart felt rebellious today, like it was pounding with hardened fists on the inside of her ribcage, screaming in protest and trying to escape from her chest.

But of course she showed none of this to Lennier. He felt bad enough about all of this already, and she did not wish for him to see the stress she was under – it would only make him feel worse. She hurried to him and took his hand, trying with what little energy she had left to conceal her exhaustion and worry.

"Lennier." She hoped that her expression and tone were enough to convince him that he needn't worry his aching head about her and her troubles. "How are you?"

"I am managing," he replied softly, lowering his gaze briefly, and Delenn felt her heart break. For Lennier not to instantly reassure her that all was well in his world meant that he felt incomparably miserable. She pressed his hand where she held it, and before she could stop it, a touch of her worry bubbled over the threshold of visibility. The ever-perceptive Lennier saw it, of course, and he curled more tightly in on himself as though trying to shield himself from the onslaught of guilt. As he adjusted his position, he seemed to notice his other friends, who had thoughtfully hung back to let Delenn greet Lennier first.

"Vir. Marcus." Speaking seemed to take more energy out of Lennier than Delenn would have liked to see, but he seemed genuinely happy to see his friends. "What are you doing here?"

"We just happened to be taking an entirely happenstance walk around Medlab," said Marcus casually as he and Vir approached the bed. Lennier, who had over the past two years begun to learn to understand his human friend's dry humor just a bit, chuckled softly, but winced as he did.

"I appreciate it," he murmured.

"You look terrible." Vir's thick Centauri eyebrows were furrowed with worry.

"How nice of you to observe that during his hour of need. I'm sure he feels much better now," said Marcus sardonically.

"I'll be fine, Vir," Lennier reassured, ignoring Marcus. "I've just got a touch of stomach upset, that's all."

Vir nodded, but his expression was entirely unconvinced.

"We were going to have a movie night tonight," he said sadly.

"I'm sorry," said Lennier softly. "I know it's been a long time."

"It isn't your fault," Vir amended quickly. "I just wish you weren't sick." He sounded so plaintive, like Delenn felt inside. Like a small, upset child trying to hide from the cares of a scary adult world.

"He'll be better before we know it." It was Marcus's turn to sound reassuring now. "Won't you, Lennier?"

"As a probability expert, I'd say the chances are good," Lennier said with a small smile. It was a forced smile – that much was obvious to Delenn. But either Vir wanted so badly to believe that his friend was going to be all right that he did not notice it, or he wanted Lennier to think that he believed him. Either way, the Centauri emitted an abbreviated laugh, and Marcus smiled.

"Is there anything we can do for you, Lennier?" the Ranger asked after a moment.

"Not just now. But thank you. And it is good to see the both of you." Lennier's body was beginning to feel tense next to where Delenn sat, and she wondered if he was feeling worse again but trying to hide it from his friends.

"All right," Marcus replied, seeming to sense Lennier's energy waning. "Come on, Vir. Delenn probably wants to sit with Lennier for a while. And we should leave our good friend to his much-needed rest, I think."

"Okay," said Vir sounding a bit disheartened, but understanding. "Bye, Lennier. I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you. And you, Marcus."

Delenn bid Vir and Marcus goodbye as well. And then the two left, Vir looking crestfallen and Marcus looking world-weary. As soon as they were out of view, Lennier adjusted his position with a grimace.

"Are you feeling worse?" Delenn asked him, brushing her thumb across his hand in a gesture of comfort.

Lennier swallowed. "It comes and goes," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "I will be all right if I try not to think about it too much."

"The medicine the doctor gave you is not helping at all?" Delenn recalled what Franklin had said when she, Marcus, and Vir had first entered Medlab.

"Not in the slightest, I'm afraid," murmured Lennier sadly. "It is a worthy punishment for my allowing it to get this bad, I imagine." Delenn inhaled sharply, ready to protest his lingering guilt, but Lennier apologized before she could even begin. "I'm sorry. I just hate that you are hurting because of me. And while your forgiveness means more to me than anything, it will not take away the pain that I have caused and am continuing to cause you." His gaze drifted away from her eyes, a sure sign that he was ashamed and feeling unworthy. Delenn realized that trying to reassure him again would likely make the situation no better; what he needed most right now was just for her to be close to him, to lend him some of her strength. She did not feel at her strongest right now either – not by any means. But she would do what she could, because poor Lennier looked even more exhausted than she felt.

"I know," she murmured. "But no matter what, you are still my guiding light, and I need you to get well so you can illuminate my path, just like you always do." _You are the only one who understands what I am going through right now. I feel very much alone when you are not with me._ "So I think it is in both of our best interests if I say here for awhile, wouldn't you agree?"

Lennier's answer was to weakly shuffle his body closer to the edge of the bed so that the tip of his headbone rested against Delenn's arm. Delenn smiled and traced the bone's contours affectionately with her fingertips.

"Thank you," Lennier whispered after a moment. "For being here. I really do feel better when you are with me." He froze suddenly, eyes widening. "Not that you should ignore your duties for me – not in the least." He looked slightly panicked, despite the fact that Delenn had definitely already reassured him that anything related to the problems of their home world would not be his fault. Delenn wondered if the fever was worsening his anxiety about the situation on Minbar and its effect on her.

"It is all right, do not worry," she soothed, continuing to stroke the edge of his headbone. "I will not abandon Minbar, but I certainly will not abandon you, either."

Lennier managed a small smile, but then she felt him shiver under her touch – he felt decidedly warmer than he had that morning. Despite her worries about his temperature – high fevers in Minbari were particularly dangerous due to their inability to sweat – she knew that the increased warmth was Lennier's body's way of trying to fight the infection. She took off her shawl, the familiar red and gold _li'tiya_ fabric feeling soft between her fingers, and draped it over Lennier's torso. The pure love and gratitude in Lennier's eyes broke her heart.

"I know this helped last time you were ill and I could not be with you. I wish I could be here with you every moment until you are well – I hate seeing you so miserable. But I hope this helps."

"It will," Lennier hugged the soft shawl around himself, looking more at peace than he had all day. But then his expression saddened, and Delenn felt her heart sink down to her stomach.

"What is it?"

"I can't wear it, Delenn. I'll get it dirty."

 _Oh._ That was her Lennier through and through. No matter how bad things were for her, he always put the needs of others first. Especially Delenn.

"That is all right. It washes well." She tucked the shawl closer about his shoulders where it had slipped down, hoping he would take the action as conformation that she wished for him to continue wearing it and not protest again. As she pulled her hand back, Lennier caught it and held onto it.

"Thank you," he murmured. He looked and sounded as though he were getting quite sleepy, but not in a frighteningly feverish way – there was more of a sense of needing to rest as much as he could so his body could try to fight his illness. It was a small encouragement, but an encouragement all the same.

"You are most welcome. But you should sleep now, while you can. I will stay for awhile, if you would like."

"Far be it from me to protest." A small smile tugged at the corners of Lennier's lips, and Delenn found her own reflecting it. It was not long until Lennier was fast asleep, his hand and Delenn's still clasped together. Delenn stayed at his side until she found it difficult to keep her own eyes open. She was loathe to leave him – she was still not in any way convinced that her dear friend would not take a turn for the worse while she was gone. But she knew that if she stayed, Lennier would only worry more, both about their world and Delenn herself, particularly her exhaustion levels. He had her shawl – it was a poor substitute for her own presence, she knew, but at least it was something. She would come see him again in the morning before starting her work. She would at any point only be away from him for a few hours at a time.

But as she left the little hospital room, she turned and looked back one more time over her shoulder at the sleeping Lennier. And she could not help but worry.


	4. All But Lost

Marcus Cole rang Delenn's door chime around oh-nine-thirty the next morning. He supposed she had probably been awake for hours already – based on what he had observed and heard from Lennier, her workload had not let up in the slightest since they had returned from Minbar nearly two months ago. She had more stamina than pretty much anyone Marcus had ever met – she had to. Delenn had so many roles – ambassador, _Entil'zha,_ member of the Babylon 5 war council – and now it seemed as though she was trying to single-handedly rebuild her entire home planet. She _could_ do it all, that much Marcus had never questioned, but he knew that Lennier was concerned that it was taking its toll on her. Of course, Lennier always worried about Delenn, just as Delenn always worried about Lennier. But in this case, Marcus's instinct was that Lennier's fears were at least somewhat justified. When he had looked into Delenn's gray eyes the previous day, he had seen exhaustion there – physical, yes, but mostly emotional. Marcus knew what had happened on Minbar – the civil war that had torn the planet and its people apart, brushes with death on the parts of both Delenn and Lennier, and the loss of Neroon.

It surprised Marcus that he had felt sad when he had heard about Neroon's death – after having been beaten senseless by the _Alyt_ in a (successful) effort to thwart his plan to assassinate Delenn, Marcus would have thought he would be glad, or at the very least apathetic, to hear of his passing. But he knew that Neroon had become a changed man that day on the station, and that Marcus himself had had quite a part to play in that. So Marcus had not, in fact, been terribly surprised to hear that Neroon had sacrificed himself to end the war – and to save Delenn. Marcus supposed that Neroon had realized somewhere along the line that Delenn was the person their people needed to lead them into a new era of peace. And Marcus believed that he was right. But that did not change the fact that Neroon had died so Delenn could live, and Delenn was _very_ aware of that. When she and Lennier had first returned from Minbar, Marcus had expressed his sympathies about Neroon, and he had seen a crippling pain light Delenn's eyes. Lennier had laid a steadying hand on her arm and given Marcus a look that told him in no uncertain terms not to mention Neroon again.

And now, on top of everything else, Lennier was ill again. Normally, a bout of food poisoning was no cause for anything beyond mild concern. But this was Lennier. Delenn worried about Lennier's health when he was feeling perfectly well. And now that he was in Medlab, feverish and weak and hooked up to fluids and medications and antibodies, Marcus could tell that Delenn was deeply unsettled. So was Marcus, if he was to be honest. He had been away from the station during Lennier's episode of sepsis the previous year, but had spent two months believing his friend to be dead. He did not think he could endure the real thing happening. But with Lennier's predispositions, the possibility had admittedly crossed Marcus's mind, as unlikely as it seemed right now.

"Come in," Delenn called immediately as the chime sounded. The door swung open and Marcus entered her quarters.

" _Entil-zha_ ," he greeted, bowing respectfully. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she replied, bowing in return.

"Here are the intelligence report summaries on the situation with Earth you requested," Marcus said, handing her a data pad. Delenn accepted it, and Marcus glanced around the room. "I am glad I did not seem to have interrupted a call. You seem to be having a great many of those as of late," Marcus commented, sitting at the table when she motioned. Delenn poured him a cup of tea from the kettle on the stove and handed it to him before sitting back down. Marcus smiled his thanks.

"Yes." Marcus did not miss the tiredness in her sigh. "The Gray Council seem to have forgotten that I refused to accept the position in the circle of the Chosen One in the council chambers. They want my advice on _everything_. This is a delicate time, and I cannot blame them for seeking help. But some days it feels as though I am running the entire planet by myself."

"That's a lot of responsibility for one person," murmured Marcus. "Are you sure there is no one who can help you?"

Delenn stared into the tea mug in front of her for a long moment before meeting his gaze again. There was grief in her eyes. "If Neroon were alive, he could. We saw eye to eye on the direction our world needed to take – after a fashion." She smiled, but the expression was haunted, as though she was remembering something pleasant and painful simultaneously. She grasped the handle of her cup, but she did not lift it to her lips.

"I'm sorry." Marcus had experienced the deaths of many people with whom he had been close over the course of his life, and he was well acquainted with grief. He had enough experience to know that sometimes, trying to think of more things to say to comfort someone diminished the effectiveness of the attempt. So he said nothing more, allowing Delenn to move the conversation in the direction she wished, when she was ready.

"Lennier could help me," she murmured after a time. "Or he could if he were well. He does not think himself ready for such responsibility, but I believe that he is. Before I stepped inside the Starfire Wheel, I gave him instructions that would have allowed him to take my place, to set in motion the events that because of Neroon's sacrifice I was able to do myself. I would not have done that if I did not believe him ready. Lennier is not only the most loyal and dearest friend I could possibly have had the good fortune to be blessed with - he has a natural talent for diplomacy. He is calm, thoughtful, confident in his own way, and extremely perceptive. But despite over three years of training with me, he does not believe himself ready to lead. And I am afraid that my continued existence following the events at the Temple of Varenni have given the people someone familiar to cling to. They know me, so they trust me. Even if they ought not to." She laughed bitterly.

Marcus furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

She paused thoughtfully, then shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I am sorry, Marcus. I am afraid the events of the past two months and all the responsibility that have come with them have wearied me."

"I don't blame you in the least." Marcus watched Delenn as she sipped her tea. There it was, in her eyes – he had not been mistaken. Regret. Part of him, the part that was a Ranger serving his _Entil'zha_ , warned him not to inquire about it – Delenn's problems were her own, and none of Marcus's business. As an added bonus, if those gray eyes took on the storminess of anger, Marcus could find himself in a lot of trouble. But another part of him, the part that was her friend, even from before her rise to head of the Rangers, wanted desperately to help.

"Delenn, if I may…" he began. She put down her cup and regarded him with a slightly suspicious gaze. Marcus took a breath and continued. "Last year, you really helped me sort through my…issues. You know, feeling guilty about being alive when people I loved were dead. And I'm really grateful for that, and I'm doing a lot better now in no small part because of you."

Delenn had a small smile on her face. _That's it. Keep smiling._ Marcus continued.

"So now, in reciprocation and in friendship, I feel it is my duty to observe that you…look guilty about something." He rushed through that last part, resisting the urge to cringe away from he when her eyes flashed momentarily. But then her anger was gone, and she leaned back in her chair with a tired sigh.

"It's Lennier, isn't it?" Marcus ventured.

"In part," murmured Delenn. Was it just Marcus, or did she look slightly relieved? He decided he had played the odds enough today, and did not press her.

"I feel as though I have not given him the opportunities he deserves," she muttered self-reproachfully.

"What are you talking about? I'm sure he's learned a lot while working with you."

"Learned, yes. Been able to apply, no. I have taught him much, but as far as putting what he has learned into practice, I am afraid I have sheltered him too much to give him the chance. He does not deserve that – he is brilliant, and he ought to be allowed to show the universe what he can do. But he is so innocent, and so fragile. I do not want him to get hurt, in his heart or in his body."

"That's understandable," Marcus said softly. "You care about him very much, and you have every right to want to protect him, especially because of his condition. But he wants to help you, and I know he's worried about the stress you're under. So, if I may postulate…perhaps it would be of benefit to the both of you if he were able to stretch his wings just a little bit. When he's well, of course."

"Yes." Delenn's expression was grateful, but also distant and worried. She exhaled shakily. "When he is well."

"How is he?" Lennier had not seemed at all well when Marcus and Vir had gone to visit him the previous day. Marcus knew that Minbari physiologically did not have the ability to flush – when they were ill, they just got paler and paler. Lennier had borne a pallor of approximately corpse level the previous day. Vir had told Marcus after they had left Medlab that he did not look nearly as bad as he had when he had been sick the previous year, but the Centauri had still been visibly upset. Marcus had squeezed his friend's arm comfortingly and, for once, was glad Vir did not know about Lennier's genetic condition. He would likely have been beside himself if he had.

"He was no better this morning than he was yesterday." Delenn clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "His fever has not lowered, and Doctor Franklin said he was sick several times during the night. And the muscles in his abdomen seem to be getting continuously more painful. He is terribly uncomfortable, even though he tries so hard to hide it from me."

"Poor Lennier," murmured Marcus.

"He is barely recovered from his surgery." Delenn folded her arms over her chest and hunched over, looking as though she was trying to shield herself from the onslaught of worry bombarding her soul.

"He'll be all right," Marcus reassured her gently. "He's strong, especially if you're there with him."

Delenn reached across the table to lay a grateful hand on Marcus's arm. Just then, the BabCom unit on the wall beeped.

" _Incoming call from Susan Ivanova."_

Delenn looked slightly confused. "Receive."

Susan's face popped up on the screen. As usual, Marcus felt himself go ever so slightly weak at the knees at the sight of her. He was glad he was sitting down. He really ought to do something about his unrequited love. He wished Susan would make chocolate chip cookies and distribute them around the station again so he would have an obvious excuse to compliment her. Or maybe _he_ could make _her_ cookies. But then she might think he was trying to outdo her. No, that was a terrible idea. Or maybe…

"Delenn." It wasn't until Susan spoke that Marcus realized how grave she seemed. Her lips were pursed, her face drawn. Of course, with all of their problems with Earth and President Clark right now, she had much to be grave about. But this was different – something was acutely very wrong.

Susan didn't even wait for Delenn to return her greeting. "Have you watched any of the Minbari news channels or been in contact with anyone from your world in the past ten minutes?"

"No." Delenn looked as sick as Marcus suddenly felt. "Why?"

"Because I'm receiving this from Minbar on one of our beacons." With the press of a button on Susan's end, the picture on the screen changed to a newscast. It showed footage of a crystalline building that looked like it had once been made up of two round domes, built into a hillside. But now, those domes were nothing but charred, smoking craters. It was not until Delenn emitted a strangled gasp that Marcus realized the significance of the building.

 _The Temple of Varenni_. The place where, only two short months ago, the Religious Caste and the Warrior Caste had ended their war and made peace. Where Delenn had nearly died, and where Neroon had sacrificed his life to save her and their people. A symbol of peace and harmony, over a millennium old, from before the time of Valen himself. Now billowing black soot into the air, ruined.

" _The ancient Temple of Varenni was all but destroyed a few minutes ago by a bomb,"_ said a reporter in clipped Adrihi'e. _"Authorities are still searching for the bomber, but we can confirm that no one was hurt. The famous temple, however, where a mere few weeks ago the war between the Warrior Caste and the Religious Caste came to a shocking conclusion inside the Temple's Starfire Wheel, is all but lost. We will bring you more updates as they become available."_

The newscast changed, and the screen switched back to Ivanova. Delenn just stared at her, open-mouthed. Marcus found himself doing the same thing.

"I'm sorry, Delenn," said Susan quietly, after a beat. "I know your world has lost so much already."

"How could this happen?" whispered Delenn, her voice breaking. "The war is over, we are at peace…"

"Apparently not everyone feels that way," said Marcus grimly. Try as he might, he could not get the image of the decimated temple, smoke obscuring the true extent of its wreckage, out of his mind. He had not felt so haunted by the destruction of a place since that horrible day he had tried to return to his old home on Arisia and found the whole planet completely gone.

"Do you think it _was_ in protest of the new government?" Susan asked.

"I…" Delenn broke off shaking her head. "I am sorry. I must make some calls before I speculate. Thank you, Susan, for bringing this to my attention." 

"Of course. And you're welcome. Good luck, Delenn. And again, I'm sorry."

Susan's face flickered off of the screen. Delenn continued to stare at the blank screen, as though still trying to process what had just happened.

"Delenn." Marcus reached out hesitantly and laid a soft hand on her arm. Gentle though he was, she jumped and turned to face him. At least he had managed to divert her attention.

"Are you all right?"

"I…" She broke off, shaking her head. "I do not know what to do. The Temple of Varenni dates back from before the time of Valen. It housed the Stafire Wheel, which so recently helped to save our people from destruction. It was a symbol of peace and harmony amongst our people, one we needed now more than ever. And now it is gone." Her voice trembled as she spoke. "I - I need to make some calls. To the council members, to see if they have any further information." She was trying to get back to her down-to-business manner but Marcus knew her well enough to see right through it.

"I will go," he said, beginning to bow respectfully.

"Marcus, wait."

He straightened, watching her inquiringly.

"If you are not too busy, could you stay? Just for a little while. Without Lennier, I…" She took a shuddering breath, and Marcus found himself reaching out to lay a hand on her arm.

"Of course I'll stay," he murmured.

"Thank you." Delenn's words were barely audible. It shook Marcus to see her so deeply troubled.

Delenn closed her eyes for a moment – praying, no doubt – and then opened them once more.

"Call _Satai_ Bhurli," she ordered the BabCom.

It took several seconds for an answer, long enough for Marcus to wonder if they would get one. But then an older female Minbari with an ornately carved, rounded Religious Caste headbone answered. Her face was streaked with tears.

"It is gone, Delenn," she sobbed. "Who would _do_ this? _How_ could they do _this_?"

"It is a great tragedy," murmured Delenn. "And my heart cries out just as yours does. But we must reassure the people that this is an isolated incident, and that they needn't be afraid."

"But how do we know?" whispered Bhurli, her knuckles beginning to turn white where they were wrapped around her gray robe. "We have no idea who did this, Delenn. It was bad enough when we knew who the enemy was. But terrorist attacks?" She broke off with a little sob. Delenn maintained a composed façade. But what Marcus could see that Bhurli could not was that Delenn's hands, which hung by her side, were balled so tightly into fists that she was digging her fingernails into her palms.

"If these are terrorists trying to make a statement, then we will find out who did this soon enough. If they have an agenda, they will make it known to us."

"And if they don't?"

"Then we will find them anyway. They will pay for what they have done, never fear."

"They are trying to see to it that we fail. That the new Gray Council does not succeed." Bhurli's grief suddenly turned into anger. "It is the Warrior Caste. Delenn, it must be! They could have won the war, with all their strength. Many of them do not think it fair that they be forced into a compromise. They care more about themselves than the good of our people!"

"Bhurli, I know you are grieving for the loss of our treasured relic," soothed Delenn. "But if you begin blaming the Warrior Caste for this atrocity, you will only cause more anger and violence. No speculations must be made. We need facts. And the Council needs to ensure that those facts get found."

Bhurli passed a flowing sleeve over her eyes and nodded.

"You are right, of course. Thank you, Delenn."

"Thank _you_ , Bhurli. And be strong."

The call terminated. Delenn stood stock-still, her nails still pressed hard into her hands.

"Delenn," asked Marcus hesitantly. He did not want to bring this up, not when she was so upset. But he had to. "You _don't_ know that this is only an isolated incident. Far be it from me to tell anyone how to run a planet, but shouldn't you tell the people the truth?"

Delenn shook her head. "Telling them the truth would only cause mass panic. I do not want any more injuries or deaths to come out of this. It is not an overt lie – we do not _know_ that this is an isolated incident, and we do not _know_ that it will happen again."

"That's a thin line," Marcus observed. He was taking his life into his hands, he knew. But it was a risk he felt he needed to take.

"Your opinion is noted." Delenn's voice was clipped, harsh. Marcus quieted immediately– pressing further would do no good.

"I am sorry," Delenn murmured after a couple of moments of silence. "I should not have snapped at you. And you are right. But I am frightened and upset, just as my people are frightened and upset. This is not an easy choice. I hope you can understand that."

"Understand? No." Marcus shook his head. Delenn looked at him with sadness and betrayal, but he went on. "But I do trust you. And for now that will have to be enough."

"It will." Delenn took a steadying breath, then spoke to the BabCom screen. "Call _Shai Alyt_ Vashaer."

A few seconds later, the view on the screen changed to reveal a middle-aged male Minbari. His headbone was carved into the classic sharp spikes of the Warrior Caste, and he had the most extensive sky blue markings on the top of his head that Marcus had ever seen.

"Delenn." There was a nearly overwhelming exhaustion in his voice, as well as the slightest bit of suspicion. Surprisingly, however, Marcus did not think he heard the contempt he would have expected from the leader of the Warrior Caste for the Religious outcast who had forced a compromise in a war the Warriors had been winning.

"Vashaer. I take it you have heard?"

"About the Temple of Varenni? For being cut off from so many news sources, information seems to travel quite quickly to Babylon 5." Vashaer sighed wearily. "I suppose you have called to ask me if I have information on who is responsible?"

"If a member of the Warrior Caste is to blame, I thought you might have some information, yes."

"Well, I do _not_." It was the first true emotion Marcus had seen from the _Shai Alyt_ – annoyance, disgust, and maybe even a little anger. But it was still less than he would have expected from the head of the Warrior Caste. Delenn forged ahead, unwilling to give up her mission just like that.

"I find it difficult to believe that you have absolutely _no_ leads, Vashaer. I know you receive reports from every branch of the Warrior Caste. I do not doubt that _you_ had nothing to do with this attack, but I find it quite plausible that one of your caste might."

"That is highly presumptuous talk for someone supposedly committed to peace and balance between the clans!" Vashaer's tone was accusatory, his blue eyes alight with anger now. "I must say, Delenn, I never would have guessed you a hypocrite."

Marcus winced as Delenn's eyes flashed, like lightning streaking across a dark sky.

"And I never would have guessed you would allow your pride to get in the way of doing what is best for your people."

Vashaer sighed, suddenly looking twenty years older. Delenn had won, and they all knew it.

"I do not wish to imply that I believe the Warrior Caste responsible for this based on meritless judgment. We have evidence that the largest percentage of the population unhappy with the new government are members of the Warrior Caste. I am merely using facts to draw the most likely conclusion."

"Very well," muttered Vashaer. "But I still do not have an answer for you, Delenn. I am sorry. I will keep you informed if I hear anything, but right now I am afraid I have nothing that can help you."

Delenn studied him for a moment.

"Very well," she murmured. "I would appreciate it if you made every effort to gather information on this matter as quickly as possible. And I would ask that you attempt to quell the violent outbreaks amongst the Warriors. I do not deign to tell you how to run your caste. I only ask this for the good of all Minbari. These are precarious times, Vashaer. The Minbari do not have a good record for handling fear and uncertainty in a healthy way. I would like to try to change that, but our castes will need to work together. And for that to occur, _we_ must first work together."

Vashaer nodded. "Very well. I will do as you ask. But, Delenn, as you pursue this, I ask that you keep _all_ our people in mind."

"I understand. Thank you for your cooperation, Vashaer."

Vashaer balled one fist, pressed it into his flattened palm, and bowed. In return, Delenn cupped one hand behind the other, made a triangle with her thumbs, and dipped her head as well. Vashaer vanished from the screen.

"I think he is telling the truth," murmured Delenn gravely.

"You make it sound as though that were a bad thing. Do you _want_ him to be hiding something from you?"

"I just want to know who is responsible for this atrocity and to stop them before they make things even worse." Delenn sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Vashaer is a good man, and I believe the Warrior Caste is in far better hands with him at its head than it ever was under Shakiri. But Vashaer is, like all Minbari, very loyal to his caste. In _general_ , Minbari do not lie. But a Minbari _will_ lie to protect another's safety or honor. It is possible Vashaer knows who is responsible for the bombing and is trying to protect them, but after speaking with him, I believe he honestly is as in the dark as we are."

"I thought Shakiri was the _Shai Alyt_ of the Warrior Caste," commented Marcus. "What happened to him?"

"Did you see the recording from our surrender at the Temple of Varenni?" asked Delenn quietly, her voice quaking just a bit as she spoke the name of the ancient landmark, so recently laid to waste.

Marcus nodded, internalizing a shudder at the memory. He had been so proud of Delenn in that moment, of the _Entil'zha_ whom he served so eagerly, of his friend. But even though he had watched the recording in retrospect, he had felt a sickening rush of adrenaline knowing that in her immense sacrifice, Delenn had been but moments away from the end of her life. And despite the fact he knew she had survived the ordeal, he had felt the breath rush out of his body in relief when Neroon had handed her limp body to Lennier and taken her place. And then there had been a surprising grief as he had watched the man whose life he had helped to change perish for the good of his people.

"Then you saw Shakiri refuse to endure the course of the Starfire Wheel with me. He was willing to let the people of the caste to whom he proclaimed such loyalty die serving under him in battle. But at the Temple of Varenni, Shakiri showed that he was not willing in turn to die for his people. The Warrior Caste, of course, found this dishonorable, and they shunned Shakiri. A group of them forced him out of the position of _Shai Alyt_ in favor of Vashaer, who had much more popularity among the people. Shakiri did not take this well – he made appeals to the Warriors, bidding them continue to fight a war that had ended, to lay down their lives for glory and honor even though he was the only one not tired of the killing. It was as if he thought they could all forget that not long ago, he had refused to die for his own people. Of course, these appeals merely served to further confirm the truest extent of his madness. A Warrior kills because he values the life he protects in doing so; Shakiri kills because it makes him feel powerful. He is truly dangerous, and I believe the Warrior Caste to be far better off without him at its head."

"I agree," muttered Marcus. Many of his fellow Rangers were Warrior Caste Minbari, and while sometimes they could be stubborn, self-righteous, and difficult to work with, they were in all good people. They did not deserve to have an insane military leader who clearly did not care enough about them to sacrifice himself what he was asking them to give up. It was not what leadership was. Leadership was suffering so others did not have to – or at the very least suffering right alongside them.

"I have to tell Lennier." Delenn's whisper broke Marcus's train of thought, and when he met her eyes he saw more grief than he had when she had first heard of the bombing of the temple. "This news will break his heart."

She was right, Marcus knew. Lennier was a history aficionado. And even though Lennier had told Marcus that he had found where he truly belonged on Babylon 5 with Delenn, Marcus knew that a piece of his friend's heart would always be in a Minbari temple. Religion and tradition had been such formative influences on Lennier's life, and hearing of the destruction of an ancient symbol of these things would no doubt sadden Lennier greatly.

"Maybe we should wait until he's feeling better?" he asked. The last thing Lennier needed right now was an emotional shock.

"If I do that, I run the risk of him learning about it from someone other than me. And that would make it all the worse." Delenn folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. "But he is going to be _so_ upset."

"I'll go with you, if you like," Marcus offered, unsure if his presence would do any good in this situation, but wanting to help in any way that he could.

"I should speak to Lennier about this alone," said Delenn. "But…if you would not mind, could you walk to Medlab with me?" Marcus got the distinct impression that she did not wish to be alone just now. He did not blame her.

"Of course."

Their walk to Medlab was a slow and silent one, with Delenn deep in thought and Marcus watching her closely. He missed the strong, confident, unshakeable Delenn he knew so well. And he would do everything he could to get her back.

When they reached Lennier's room, Delenn took Marcus's hand and gave it a quick squeeze in gratitude before going in.

 _You're welcome,_ thought Marcus. Despite the fact that this was supposed to be a private conversation, he could not resist glancing through the little window into the hospital room. At the very least, he wanted to _see_ Lennier.

Lennier lay on his side as he had the previous day, his blanket pulled tightly up to his chin. Delenn's red and gold shawl was laid over his torso. It was wrinkled and mussed as though he had been shifting position, trying to get comfortable. He looked even paler than he had when Marcus and Vir had visited the previous day. Marcus thought he might be sleeping, but Lennier stirred almost immediately when Delenn took his hand. He said something, eyes bright and loving. But then he clearly saw on Delenn's face that something was terribly wrong, and concern flooded his features. Marcus saw Delenn swallow hard and then deliver the news. For several seconds, neither of them spoke or moved. Poor Lennier seemed to get paler by the second as he tried to cope with his shock and comprehend what he had been told. Finally, Delenn gathered him up in her arms and kissed the top of his head, then rested her head against his. Lennier shut his eyes and leaned into the embrace, his trembling hands holding a triangle as best they could. He was praying, Marcus realized.

Marcus left his friends in that position. It was turning out to be a very difficult day for all of them. But Marcus could not seem to shake the feeling that things would soon get even worse.


	5. I Long For Something That's Safe & Warm

Lennier's stomach _hurt_. It was not just the nausea anymore. This was separate from that. It had started with a dull ache in his upper abdomen the previous evening, but it had intensified overnight. It hurt when he lay still, but even more when he moved. And vomiting, which he still could not seem to stop doing, was absolute torture. Every time his abdominal muscles contracted to expel the contents of the stomach, Lennier had to bite back a sob of agony. And each fit left him even weaker – he barely had the strength to hold onto the bowl to keep him from leaving a mess on the bed sheets. And when the contractions finally ceased and the pain receded just enough for him to stop needing to hold back tears, he would lower his upper body back into a slanted position on the bed and just lie there and _shake_. Every inch of his body would tremble helplessly with cold and fever and pain and exhaustion.

He had managed to hold himself together while Delenn had been there for the second time that morning, even though she had relayed to him such terrible news. _The Temple of Varenni. Gone. Such an ancient and important relic, destroyed by some selfish, ungrateful reprobate. It stood unchanged for over a thousand years, and now, in a split second, it is gone forever._ Delenn had held Lennier close and they had both felt each other's shared pain. Their grief had been beyond words, so they had sat in silence. Not so many years ago, the naïve Lennier of the past would never have believed the universe could be so cruel as to force yet more suffering upon two people who had already been through so much. But recently he had learned that there was no limit to the pain one could experience in a short time. It was difficult not to allow himself to become overwhelmed by it, especially when he felt so ill and the fever made everything look even bleaker. But when Delenn held him in her arms, he had felt as though he could _just_ bear it all. But Delenn was suffering too, and Lennier needed to be strong for her. So he had pressed into her and hoped that his presence was helping her as much as hers was helping him.

But then Delenn had needed to leave, the obligations of her position drawing her away yet again. She had tucked the shawl tightly around Lennier's shoulders before she left, obviously hoping it would provide him with the comfort he needed. But as soon as she was gone, the trauma of the morning had overwhelmed Lennier's weakened system and he had heaved into the bowl with all of his might. That episode had been more painful than any he had experienced previously. He had not managed to stifle the sob this time, and the pain had made him dizzy. Doctor Franklin had come to check on him a few minutes later and found him curled up in a tight ball, a hand pressed to his abdomen, tears running down his face. The doctor had immediately examined Lennier closely, palpating his abdomen – at which Lennier had needed to stifle a cry – and running an ultrasound probe over it. He had found nothing of immediate concern beyond the fact that Lennier was in obvious pain. He had told Lennier he suspected that his abdominal muscles were severely fatigued and overused, to the point where they were becoming injured, as an ankle or knee might if one suddenly began exercising for hours every day without giving it time to rest and recover. So Doctor Franklin had added some pain medication to Lennier's IV line and told him to let him know if it helped or not. And the medicine _did_ dull the pain, but not as much as Lennier had hoped. And it made him feel even dizzier, so much so that he did not want to even try to lift his head for fear the sensation would make him vomit yet again. So he had just laid there, as still as he possibly could be, taking one measured breath at a time to distract himself from how terrible he felt.

Lennier dozed lightly, floating in and out of wakefulness, for the entire afternoon. He was too painful and nauseous to sleep properly, and he kept needing to change position to try to alleviate his discomfort. But in his growing weakness, that was becoming increasingly difficult. By the early evening, he barely had the strength to sit up on his own. Lennier positively _detested_ feeling like this. He had not been brought so low since his illness the previous year. Even after his thoracotomy, he had not felt nearly so spent. Breathless and desperately uncomfortable, yes, but not utterly helpless as he had been for so long after his bout of sepsis. He was not at that point just yet, but he was approaching it faster than he would like. And it was not a direction he wished to travel.

He was again not fully asleep when Delenn arrived once more that evening, so he felt her stroking his knuckles almost immediately. He stirred, comforted by her presence but suddenly realizing that his pain and nausea had grown even worse since the last time he had been fully conscious. He brought his knees closer to his chest, curling into a tighter ball. The action was difficult – his legs trembled when he tried to force them into a different position.

"I am sorry; I did not mean to wake you," murmured Delenn.

"It's all right. I am glad to see you." Lennier whispered. "And I wasn't really asleep anyway." A wave of nausea passed over him and he shut his eyes and swallowed hard, silently praying it would pass uneventfully. After several seconds, it did. This time.

"How are you feeling?" Delenn sounded apprehensive, as though she already knew the answer. Lennier was finished lying and keeping things from her, but that did not mean it did not shatter his heart to tell her the truth.

"Um…" He swallowed hard past a throat dry from lack of water and raw from repeated bile exposure and winced. "Ask me again when the answer will not upset you so much?" His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.

"My poor Lennier." Delenn ran the tips of her fingers down his cheek, her face drawn with worry. "You are even more feverish now than you were this morning. Is your stomach worse as well?"

Lennier nodded into his pillow. Despite not wanting to worry Delenn further, the fever was dampening his inhibitions enough to make him more emotional than he would have liked. He failed to hold back a slight whimper and Delenn immediately took both of his hands into her own and pressed them.

"It hurts," Lennier whispered, hating how hopeless he sounded. "And I feel so terribly sick."

"Your body is having an awful time fighting this, isn't it?" Delenn bit her lip for a moment. "Doctor Franklin said regular stomach viruses only tend to last for a couple of days. It has been five, and you are only getting worse. I am worried about you, Lennier."

Even though Lennier was fully aware that Delenn worried about him nearly all of the time, and incessantly when he was ill, she rarely articulated the sentiment out loud. Lennier knew it was because she wished to avoid upsetting him with the knowledge that he was hurting her in any way, even though it was all of course unintentional and in no way his fault. Lennier was, of course, extremely aware of just how worried Delenn was – he was very good at reading people, and especially at reading Delenn. So her keeping her worries from him was rather a moot point; but all the same, it was an aberration for her to acknowledge them like this. Lennier was unsure if her openness was due to the stress of her work and the current situation on Minbar, or if she truly was just at the end of her rope with his health. Although he knew that, realistically, it was all due at least in large part, to the former, his feverish mind taunted him with the knowledge that he _had_ made this worse for her. He had kept his illness from Delenn and from the doctor, and now he was worse than he would have been because of it. Lennier felt he very much deserved that, but Delenn certainly did not. He vaguely remembered having apologized, and Delenn telling him not to worry himself about it. But that seemed so long ago, and in Lennier's mind, no amount of apologizing could even begin to make up for what he had done. But he had to try – he _had_ to make her see how sorry he was…

"I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm s…so sorry…"

"Sorry for what?" Delenn cupped his cheek in her hand and gently angled his head so that their eyes met. "What is the matter, _Ker'maier Ard'ka_?"

Her concern only increased Lennier's guilt, and he felt tears that were too warm begin to spill down his face. He knew he was making matters worse, but he could not seem to stop himself from crying.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and Delenn pulled him close, not knowing what was wrong but obviously wanting to help in any way she could. "I should…should have told you I was ill sooner…should have gone to the doctor…" His breath shuddered in his chest, the motion of his body aggravating his painful abdomen. He winced.

"Lennier, we have been through this. All is forgiven, and you needn't worry about it anymore." He could tell she was trying to sound soothing, but the same worry that was in her eyes crept at the edge of her voice. That wouldn't do. It _wouldn't_. She _had_ to see…

"I'm sorry!" Lennier was sobbing by this time, and he buried his face in the crook of Delenn's neck. "I didn't mean…mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry…"

"I know," Delenn murmured, stroking his headbone with slow, even movements. "I know you are sorry. But you must know that I would have worried about you no matter what, because you are my dearest friend and I love you. You understand that, don't you, Lennier?"

He sniffled and nodded into her shoulder. "I love you too, Delenn."

The worst of his anxiety began to fade then, but in the aftermath he began to feel so shaky he could hardly remain in a sitting position, even leaning against Delenn. Delenn pressed him close for a moment before gently lowering him back onto the bed so that he lay on his side. Lennier continued to tremble as she tucked the blankets and the _li'tiya_ shawl closely around him.

"I will be right back, my dear. I am just going to get Doctor Franklin."

Lennier whimpered and grabbed for her hand. He knew, distantly, that he was being ridiculous – Delenn would probably return in less than a minute. But his mind was telling him that if he let her out of his sight, he would be all alone. And for some reason, being all alone seemed terrifying.

Delenn ran her palm over the back of his hand where he grasped her fingers. "I promise I will come back, Lennier. I know you are feeling terribly unwell, but I need you to be strong for me, like I know you can be. Just for a few moments. Can you do that for me?"

 _Strong. Be strong. For Delenn._ Lennier sniffled and nodded into his pillow. Delenn squeezed his hand and then laid it gently on the bed before rising and leaving the room. Lennier's heart screamed for her to stay, but he shut his eyes and grabbed the edge of the shawl that was tucked around him, feeling its familiar softness beneath his fingertips. When he had been recovering the previous year, the shawl's presence had helped remind him during times of Delenn's absence that she would return, and that she loved him. It had kept him going during the times between her visits. As long as he knew Delenn was coming back, Lennier could hold on. But it was _so_ hard sometimes.

The pain and nausea constantly lingered in the background, as though waiting for the right moment to pounce. They chose that moment to attack, intensely and all at once. Lennier sobbed and tightened his grip on the shawl. He couldn't do this alone, he couldn't bear it…

And suddenly Delenn was there again, stroking his forehead and murmuring soft reassurances.

"It is all right, Lennier. I have returned, just as I said I would. All will be well, never you worry. Just rest now. Just rest."

Lennier felt relief flood his heart at her return, though it did nothing to ease his physical suffering. He tried with everything he had to just focus on Delenn's voice, willing it to shut out his sensations of pain and sickness. And the worst did pass, after several seconds. But as always, they took just a bit more strength out of him, leaving him even weaker and more helpless than he had been before.

"I think he is a little delirious," Lennier heard Delenn say softly, and he realized she must be talking to Doctor Franklin. "He was weeping just now, and he kept apologizing over and over again for not telling us he was ill, even though I've told him several times that all is forgiven. I know he will still feel guilty no matter what I say, but it is extremely abnormal for him to be that emotional, even with me. And his temperature has increased, and I think his nausea and pain are worse."

"One oh three-five." Franklin glanced up at the vitals monitor above Lennier's bed. "Damn. Lennier, I was hoping you'd get better with rest, antibiotics, and fluid therapy – essentially just being in the hospital. Even with four days of neglect, you should have at least _started_ getting better by now. I have to be honest - the fact that you're getting worse is worrying."

 _Not only for you_ , thought Lennier bitterly as his stomach clenched again. _I am not exactly overjoyed by this myself._

His temporary bout of self-pity was interrupted by a squeeze of his hand from Delenn. She spoke, her words halting. She was so poised, as usual, but Lennier knew her well enough to be able to tell that she was putting forth an immense effort to keep her voice from shaking.

"Do you think he could be septic after all?"

Franklin sighed, and the nausea that hit Lennier that time was more from fear at the sound of his uncertainty rather than from his physical ailment. "I don't think he is right now, but I'm worried he could be headed that way. His immune system obviously isn't able to clear whatever this is, and I do worry it's opening him up to further infection." He pulled a rolling stool next to the bed so his eyes were approximately at the level of Lennier's, and Delenn pushed her chair sideways and let go of Lennier's hand, which lay up next to his body.

"Hey, Lennier," Franklin said softly. "I need get some more blood from you so I can check your blood count and antibody titers, okay? I know you're probably most comfortable curled up like that, but I need your arm."

Taking care not to move any other part of his desperately uncomfortable body, Lennier stretched out the arm that was not equipped with the intravenous catheter.

"Thanks." Franklin swiped some alcohol-soaked gauze over the crook of Lennier's elbow. The coldness made Lennier shiver. It did not make any sense – he already felt so cold all over. Why should this additional chill to one tiny area of his body bother him so much? But he supposed his illness was so overwhelming to his system that it had severely dampened his ability to cope with small problems. Problems such as a few drops of alcohol evaporating off of his skin, or Delenn leaving for even a few moments.

"Do you few cold everywhere?" Franklin's question echoed his thoughts. Lennier nodded miserably. He knew that his ever-present chills meant his fever was continuing to rise even further.

"You're going to put me on the cooling pads again, aren't you?" he whispered as Franklin inserted the bevel of a needle into his vein. Lennier did not remember much from the worst of his illness the previous year – he had been far too feverish and delirious to retain anything. But one thing he did remember was how desperately uncomfortable he had felt, his already freezing body laid on and under cooling pads in a necessary but torturous attempt to lower his temperature. Every time he had woken, all he could think about was how _cold_ he was. Delenn's constant presence had been the only thing that had been able to ease his agony even the tiniest bit. But if he were to be placed on the cooling pads now, with his nausea and abdominal pain as intense as they were…Lennier shuddered to imagine the toll it would take on him. He _could_ bear it, as long as Delenn was there – when she was with him, he could face anything. But as much as he wished for her to stay – and he did so terribly – he knew he could not keep her from her work. What she was doing now was so important for their world. Lennier would have to make the sacrifice, for Delenn and for Minbar. And he was willing, but he honestly did not know how he was going to cope without her. And if the doctor put him on those cooling pads…Lennier stifled a whimper at the thought.

"Actually, I don't think I will just yet."

Lennier could hardly believe his ears. No cooling pads?

"It will certainly be more comfortable for him," Delenn said, "but his fever is quite high."

"You're worried that because Minbari can't sweat, he'll have a difficult time cooling himself." Franklin nodded understandingly. "That's definitely a concern, but a fever is the immune system's way of making the body inhospitable for pathogens – viruses and bacteria, for example. And right now, I think Lennier's immune system needs all the help it can get. I'll monitor him very closely – much higher and I'm afraid the cooling pads come out. We'll have no choice at that point. But right now the fever isn't high enough to do any permanent damage, so in my opinion, the benefits of letting him warm up outweigh the risks. And we don't want to make him even more miserable than he already is unless we absolutely have to."

 _Thank you, Doctor Franklin,_ thought Lennier with an internal sigh of relief.

The doctor increased the doses of Lennier's pain and anti-nausea medications a bit, and then left to run the blood tests. Delenn moved her chair back to sit next to Lennier and took his hand again. Lennier was feeling ever so slightly more lucid than he had been when he had when he had been curled up sobbing in Delenn's arms a few minutes previously – lucid enough to recognize that he could not be so selfish as to keep her all for himself. Not when so many more important things demanded her attention. And he could see in her eyes how exhausted she was – both physical and emotionally. She needed rest, not to be adhered to his bedside for Valen only knew how long. But he wished so much for her to stay. Without her comfort, Lennier would have to face this alone. And he did not know if he could do that.

"You should go sleep," he forced out, every molecule in his body crying out in disagreement with the words that came out of his mouth. His voice was nothing but a cracked whisper. "I am sure you have many calls to make in the morning."

"Oh, no," Delenn murmured, running the back of her hand over his cheek. "I am not going anywhere, my dear. I am staying right here with you."

Lennier's heart sank and simultaneously fluttered with hope. "But what about the Gray Council and the Temple of Varenni?"

"Do not worry about that," Delenn soothed. "You are much to ill for me to even think of leaving you now. I cannot help to govern or provide advice when I know you are in need of my comfort."

"But you should sleep." Lennier's protest sounded feeble to his own ears. It did not matter how much he wanted, _needed_ her there with him – her welfare was always foremost upon his mind.

Delenn's smile was a mixture of sadness and affection.

"I have had worse. I will be all right."

Lennier swallowed past a dry throat. "So will I," he whispered. He saw Delenn bite her bottom lip and felt her hand squeeze his so hard that it physically hurt. Her gaze echoed his exact thoughts.

 _I hope so._


	6. As Helpless And As Hopeless

Delenn spent the night as she had many the previous year, in a hard plastic Medlab chair, her upper body folded over Lennier's bed. It had not taken much to get her best friend to give up trying to get her to leave and rest properly. Lennier must be feeling truly awful to put up that little of a fight, and this realization reaffirmed her decision to stay all the more. So did the three times Lennier awoke to empty his stomach during the night. Delenn would snap out of her light doze when Lennier began to weakly fidget. As soon as she was coherent enough to realize what was happening, she would hurriedly take the bowl from the nightstand and hold it with one hand and support her friend's weakened body with the other as Lennier retched miserably. When he finally finished, often several agonizing minutes later, he would sob softly and press his head into her shoulder, taking slow, measured, trembling breaths with his eyes shut tightly. The fact that Lennier's need for comfort outweighed his humiliation scared Delenn. Polite, conscientious Lennier should have been horrified that anyone, particularly _her_ , should need to hold him steady as he vomited. Even though they were now equals through their friendship, Delenn knew that deep inside, it still bothered Lennier that she should have to act as his nurse, although Delenn had reassured him time and again that she did not mind in the least. But now Lennier clung desperately and unabashedly to her, weeping with pain and shaking with weakness and fever. There were no apologies, no reassurances that he was fine, no more insisting that she go and rest in her quarters and not worry about him. And all of that told Delenn that her Lennier was truly very ill.

After his last – and worst - bout of vomiting, Lennier curled up and fell asleep in her arms, his head resting against her torso as she sat next to the bed. In turn, Delenn laid her head on his shoulder and shut her eyes, silently praying for comfort for her friend and for the restoration of his health. She fell asleep mid-prayer, and when she woke to a gentle hand on her shoulder, she blinked away the blurriness of insufficient sleep to see Marcus standing next to her.

"What…what time is it?" she murmured.

"It's oh-seven hundred," he whispered in return.

With painstaking care, Delenn extracted herself from Lennier's sleeping form and settled him back onto the bed, trying her best to ignore the screaming stiffness in her muscles for spending several hours slumped over her friend. Lennier uttered a soft, feeble little noise and curled more tightly in on himself. Delenn immediately began running her fingers repeatedly across his temple.

"It is all right, Lennier. I am here. Rest now."

Lennier shifted a bit more, but then settled beneath her touch. After glancing at the vitals monitor – which showed Lennier's temperature to be the same as it had been the previous night – she tucked the blankets and her shawl around him. Then she rose and motioned to Marcus to follow her out of the room and into the hallway where they could talk without waking Lennier from his desperately needed sleep.

"I was running a mission for Captain Sheridan on one of the _White Stars_ overnight, and I didn't get back until just now. I guess Stephen didn't know where I was because he left a message for me in my quarters. He said Lennier was getting worse. I came as soon as I got it." Marcus's blue eyes were wild with apprehension. Delenn knew that one of his greatest fears was not being there for his friends during their time of need. And the previous year, he had spent two entire months thinking Lennier had died of sepsis. Delenn did not think that feeling like he had abandoned his friend a second time would do Marcus much good at all. Fortunately, he was here now. _Un_ fortunately, Delenn did not have good news for him.

"His fever is higher, and the pain and nausea are worsening as well. He was delirious yesterday, and desperately uncomfortable all of last night. He does not seem to be responding at all to the palliative medications Doctor Franklin has been giving him. The vomiting has yet to even slow in frequency, and he seems to get weaker with each bout. And I do not think he is resting at all well."

"I do not think he is the only one." Marcus squinted at her, and Delenn glared back.

"I get enough of _that_ from Lennier – I do not need it from you as well."

"On the contrary, I think it would make him feel better if he knew someone was looking out for your best interests while he is ill."

Delenn sighed. She did not have the energy to argue right now. And Marcus was probably right. She was saved from having to manufacture a response by the arrival of Doctor Franklin.

"Hey. Any change?"

"No. He has been able to sleep for at least a few hours, but all else is as it has been."

The doctor nodded, looking simultaneously thoughtful and concerned. Then he turned to Marcus.

"I take it you got my message?"

Marcus nodded. "I just got back on one of the _White Stars_ this morning. I came immediately. I will, of course, help in any way I can. Just say the word."

Delenn squeezed his lower arm lightly in gratitude. Marcus did not respond to her gesture; he stood still, as though awaiting orders. But Franklin turned back to Delenn.

"I came to tell you that I just received a message for you in my office. It was…kind of strange."

Delenn furrowed her brow. "In what way?" Her question was direct and to the point.

"Well, it was an anonymous text-only message, for one thing. But it said they had been trying to reach you through your private line, which I thought was odd since they didn't even identify themselves or leave any callback information."

"That was all the information they gave?"

"No." Franklin shook his head. "There was one more thing. They _did_ give the reason for contacting you. Whoever it was said they have information on who was responsible for the bombing of the Temple of Varenni."

Delenn's eyes widened.

"I must speak with them. Immediately."

"They didn't leave any identifying information…" Franklin repeated, but Marcus jumped in.

"If they tried to contact you on your private line, they might have left a message for you in your quarters. But Delenn…" He broke off hesitantly.

"Yes?" She uttered the question more sharply than she had intended. She had little time for talk or speculation – she needed to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible so she could return to Lennier.

"What Stephen is describing...something just doesn't seem right. Call me paranoid, but no name, no information except for something incredibly tempting…it smells like a trap."

"Isn't it possible someone knows something and wants to be anonymous for their own protection?" asked Franklin.

"Yes, but Marcus has a point – a point I had already thought of," replied Delenn firmly. "But if someone truly _does_ know something, I must find out. I cannot allow an opportunity for gaining information about this tragedy go to waste. If I do, whoever was responsible might strike again. And this time people could get hurt."

She glanced over her shoulder through the doorway. Lennier was still sleeping, but his ashen face was contorted into a pained grimace. He needed her so much. It was not fair that her life, her position should pull her away from her best friend during his hour of need. She knew Lennier, knew that he would want her to try to find out what happened to the ancient landmark, and to try to prevent further tragedy and harm to their people. But that did not make it any easier on either of them.

"Marcus, I know you have probably had an even longer night than I, but would you mind staying with Lennier for a bit, just while I investigate this? He has been delirious on and off all night, and quite painful. I do not want him to be alone; he needs comfort." She hugged her arms across her chest. She hated thinking about the possibility of Lennier opening his eyes only to find her gone, and she was halfway tempted to explain to him what had happened. But of course, she could not wake him. Not when his critically needed rest was so frequently interrupted by bouts of vomiting, which only served to make him weaker and in need of even _more_ rest. If Marcus stayed, at least Lennier would wake to the face of a friend.

"Of course. I will stay as long as you need me to, for you and for him. I am afraid I am a poor substitute for your presence, but I will try my best to help."

"I am sure he will appreciate it. I know I do. Thank you, Marcus."

" _Entil'zha."_ Marcus triangle his hands and bowed, and Delenn returned the gesture. Then, with one last glance at Lennier's sleeping form and a quick, silent prayer for him, she began to walk quickly in the direction of Green Sector.

As she had expected, the message light on her BabCom unit was blinking red when she entered her quarters.

"Play back message," she ordered before she had even come to a full stop in front of the screen.

" _Message is text-only. Transcribe?"_

"No, I will read it."

The calligraphy-like script of the Minbari characters turned blocky from their display on the screen appeared before her eyes. Delenn read, her eyes jumping from line to line. As she took in the message's content, she felt her heart freeze like a block of ice, and then begin to pound too rapidly in her ears.

" _Do not doubt that your actions at the Temple of Varenni were a terrible mistake. It is too late for you to take them back – you must now deal with the consequences. You think yourself so righteous, that you have made things better for the greater good. But you care not for the individuals injured by what you have done. This is a lesson that must be taught the hard way. I will see you soon."_

The final sentence of the message echoed over and over in Delenn's head in a voice she could not identify, even a full twenty minutes after she had first read it. She stood in her quarters in front of her BabCom unit, squinting at the ominous missive before her. On one side of her stood Marcus. On the other stood security chief Zack Allan.

Delenn had, of course, needed to ensure that Lennier had a friend by his side when she called Marcus away. Vir Cotto already knew of Lennier's deteriorated condition – Doctor Franklin had called him at the same time he had left a message for Marcus the previous evening. Vir had come immediately upon receiving it – he had exhibited such haste in rushing to Medlab that he had been out of breath upon arrival. But Lennier had been asleep just then, and of course they had not wanted to wake him. So Vir had sat quietly at his friend's sickbed for a few minutes, and then had left to allow Delenn to doze off, draped over the edge of the bed. Before he had left, Vir had expressed a desire to help in whatever way he could, much like Marcus had.

So that morning, after taking a few seconds to fully absorb the contents of the anonymous message, Delenn had taken the young Centauri up on his offer and asked him if he could stay with their friend for a while. She told him only that in Lennier's absence, she needed Marcus's help with a matter of great importance to the current situation on Minbar. Vir had needed to ask Londo for permission, but since the Centauri ambassador considered Lennier a good friend, he gave it. So Vir had come and relieved Marcus just a few minutes after the Ranger had taken up his post. But Delenn had other plans for Marcus. Leaving Vir with the still-sleeping Lennier, they headed for Delenn's quarters.

Mister Allan was there when they arrived.

"I got your call,' he said quickly as soon as they entered. "Ambassador, it sounds like you've been threatened."

Delenn felt Marcus, whom she had briefed on the walk from Medlab, tense where he stood next to her. He scanned the writing on the screen, then reached inside the pocket of his robes, withdrew his _Denn'bok_ , and began to flick it open and shut, open and shut. Allan glared at him suspiciously.

"Computer, please provide an English translation of the message," said Delenn. She hoped that the considerate gesture toward Mister Allan would offset his annoyance at Marcus. The Ranger fiddled with his fighting pike when he was bored or nervous. It took no great leap to determine which of those emotions was at play here.

"Okay, I take that back," said the security chief after he had read the tome in its entirety. "You have _definitely_ been threatened."

"Yes. Thank you for the expert insight." Marcus tightened his grip around the extended _Denn'bok_. "And what do you intend to do about it?"

"Marcus." Delenn's murmur was sharp and gentle simultaneously. Her friend was worried about her, and that was putting him on edge. But sniping at the chief of security would not help matters in any way.

Allan glowered. "That's at least in part up to the Ambassador." He turned to Delenn. "Ma'am, it sounds like this guy means business – my guess is he's coming to the station soon, if he's not already here. I recommend you be accompanied by two of my officers at all times until we get to the bottom of this."

"I might have guessed that would be your response," she said quietly. "I am afraid I cannot accept your offer, Mister Allan."

"Ambassador…" He began to protest, but she silenced him with a single glance.

"The last time I received a threat to my life on Babylon 5, I did not see fit to involve security. As a result, Lennier and Marcus took matters into their own hands, and Marcus nearly died as a result." How long ago that had been – back when Neroon had been an enemy, back when he was still alive to threaten her. In her peripheral vision, she saw Marcus clench his hand into a fist at his side, as though physically attempting to distract himself from the same thoughts.

"I thought I could handle the matter myself," she continued, an old and tired regret washing through her soul. "I did not want to trouble anyone else with it. But I badly underestimated the lengths my friends would go to in order to protect me. It is a mistake that nearly cost the life of someone I care about, and one that I will not make again. That is why I called you here today, Mister Allan."

"Then with all due respect, Ambassador, let me do my job." He sounded tired, with a hint of pleading.

"If you had a security detail follow me around, it would alert everyone that there is a problem. I do not want that."

"Ma'am, I understand your need for privacy, but…"

"It is not that." The bite in her voice stopped him mid-sentence. "There are certain people I do not wish to know that my life has been threatened. It is for their sake, not for my own, that I make this request. John has too much on his mind and heart just now, with the growing conflict with Earth. And Lennier…Lennier absolutely must _not_ catch even the slightest hint that something is amiss. Even halfway to delirium, he is still impressively perceptive, and I fear that in his weakened condition such a worry as this might frighten him into a panic that I do not believe he would handle well. No, I cannot have security officers following me around. I am sorry, Mister Allan. We must think of an alternative solution."

Delenn turned to look at Marcus, a small smile mounting on her face despite the gravity of the situation. He raised a thick eyebrow at her.

"As a matter of fact, I happen to have access to an entire army's worth of people quite capable of looking after me. And I believe one in particular might be willing to help."

Marcus held her gaze unblinkingly. "We live for the One, we die for the One. My _Denn'bok_ and my heart are yours to command, _Entil'zha_. I shall be your bodyguard."

"Thank you, Marcus," said Delenn with sincerity. "You honor all the Rangers with your loyalty."

Zack Allan spoke from Delenn's other side, sounding just the slightest bit exasperated.

"That's very nice. But Ambassador, in light of this threat, I have to at least increase station security, even if you won't let me place a personal escort with you. I can do it as covertly as possible, but it has to happen."

"I know. That is why I notified you of this message in the first place. After what happened last time, simply asking Marcus to protect me would be begging for history to repeat itself – not that I do not have faith in his abilities." She glanced at her friend, who twitched a little grin beneath his copious mustache. "But having your very capable team as a first line of defense is reassuring, as long as the increased security presence cannot be directly traced back to me. Is this reasonable, Mister Allan?"

The chief sighed wearily. "I guess I have to say yes. But know that I'll be investigating the source of this message, Ambassador."

"As will I. Thank you. I appreciate you coming here to hear my concerns." She ushered him out the door as Marcus gave a little wave. The chief of security briefly opened his mouth as though he was going to protest the abruptness of his exit, but then seemed to think better of it and left without another word.

"Thank you for telling him," said Marcus after they had both stood quietly for a moment, each lost in their own tumultuous thoughts. "Don't get me wrong – I am willing to give my life to ensure your safety, as you have already seen. But it makes me feel better that your protection is not my sole responsibility. You are less likely to get hurt this way."

Delenn nodded. His words sounded distant to her, and she barely comprehended what they meant. She was fixated on the message which was still displayed on her screen.

 _The Temple of Varenni…_

"Delenn." Marcus said insistently, and she blinked to attention. He must have called her name several times, she realized. She was unsure how much she had missed, so deep in thought had she been.

"Marcus," she murmured. "The message mentions the Temple of Varenni."

"Of course," he said. "The message left with Stephen said that whoever sent this had information about the bombing. Although here they seem to be referring to the Starfire Wheel."

"Yes," said Delenn softly. "But I believe it is more than that." She finally tore her eyes away from the screen and turned to face him, her gaze leveling his intensely.

"I think this is a confession. There is no direct information here about the identity of the bomber, yet the message left for Doctor Franklin said that there would be. This leaves me with the distinct impression that the information about the identity of the bomber is present in what is missing – the identity of the sender. I think whoever sent this message is responsible for the bombing of the Temple of Varenni."

Marcus nodded slowly, reading over the message again.

"All right. If our bomber _did_ send this message, the obvious next step would be to find out who they are."

"Do you have any suggestions as to how to go about doing that?" Delenn would use her contacts on Minbar and the Gray Council, of course, in context of the bombing only – she would not let on that she had been threatened. She could show no vulnerability right now, no matter how badly she might feel like it. But she doubted her investigations would be sufficient.

"One, and only one." Marcus replied to her question. "It sounds distinctly like they are going to come to us – or rather, to you. Right now, we wait and watch."

 _Wait and watch_. It did not seem like the safest plan that had ever been formulated. But it seemed as though they had little choice.

After that, there was little else Delenn could do to discern the identity of the bomber and her would-be attacker – she had already placed calls to the Gray Council, and she could now only wait to see if they came back with any information. As unsettled as she was, it was for the best – she had other things occupying her mind just now. Specifically, a very large portion of her heart lay in a bed in Medlab, so that was where she went. Marcus stayed at her side until they entered Medlab. He then took a seat in the small antechamber which doubled as a waiting room, where he could watch the door without conspicuously standing in the corridor. Delenn knew that he could tell she wanted some time alone with Lennier, and she was grateful.

Vir stood when he saw Delenn approach the little hospital room through the window. Only the very tip of Lennier's headbone was visible from beneath his blankets, but he did not move when Vir rose, so Delenn could only assume he was asleep. Vir met them in the hallway just outside the room.

"He's sleeping," he said before Delenn could even ask her question. That was all right – he had predicted what it would be. Not that it was difficult to guess. "He woke up about half an hour ago. He seemed sort of frantic for a moment when he couldn't find you, but he settled down when I told him that you went to investigate a lead on the person who bombed your people's temple and that you'd be back just as soon as you were finished. He was less panicky after that, but he still looked sad. And pretty uncomfortable, but he didn't vomit. He went back to sleep not long after, and he's still asleep now."

Delenn bit her bottom lip. She had hoped Lennier would stay asleep until she returned. The fact that he had been panicky made her feel guilty for leaving and worsened her worry – clearly Lennier was still at least a bit delirious. And try as she might, she could not banish the threatening words on her BabCom screen from her mind. She would need to be extremely careful to ensure her friend did not pick up on the fact that something was wrong. If the sensitive Lennier caught so much as the slightest hint that she was in danger, he would worry himself to death. _Maybe literally,_ she thought morosely.

"Thank you for sitting with him, Vir," she told the young Centauri. "I know having a friend at his side while he is unwell is very comforting to Lennier. I appreciate you being there for him, and I know he does, too."

"I'll gladly help in any way I can," Vir replied earnestly. "I just want him to get better." His voice and bottom lip both trembled just the slightest bit.

Vir had always struck Delenn as someone who was very open about his emotions – to use a phrase she had heard Mister Garibaldi employ, he "wore his heart on his sleeve". And right now, he was genuinely terribly worried about his friend. And Delenn did not blame him in the least, because so was she.

Another thing Delenn knew about Vir was that he found comfort in embrace, so she provided him with one. She felt him relax a little in her arms. She had hoped the hug would help her feel better as well, but to her chagrin, she found that it did not.

"Did you find out who did it?" asked Vir when they separated. "Bombed your temple, I mean?"

"No, I am afraid we did not. But we have more information than we did before, which is a start." She forced a smile, trying not to shiver from the chill that ran down her spine. If Vir noticed her discomfort, he did not show it.

"Oh. I was really hoping you caught them. I think it would make Lennier feel better. Not because he wants revenge on the bomber or anything – he's too nice for that. It's just that he's all into history and things like that – he's probably really upset about it, and I'm sure he really wants to make certain it doesn't happen again."

"Hopefully we will have answers soon. Now if you don't mind, I will go sit with Lennier. And I imagine Londo will be wanting you back very shortly. Thank you again, Vir."

"It was no problem. Really. I'll see you later." Vir shot one last worried glance through the window and headed up the hall. Delenn stepped over the threshold of the little sickroom and took her place in the chair beside the bed. From this angle, she could see Lennier's face, though his blankets were wrapped tightly around him all the way up to his neck. His right hand peeked out from the folds of his blanket chrysalis, and Delenn gently intertwined her fingers with his. Lennier stirred at her touch and whimpered softly in his sleep, but then settled, his expression minutely less pained than it had been before.

"I am right here, _Ker'maier Ard'ka_ ," Delenn whispered. "And I will take care of you. Never you worry. I am right here with you."

Lennier continued to sleep, his exhausted body gathering all the strength it could. About twenty minutes later, Delenn heard John Sheridan's voice call in hushed tones from the doorway.

"Delenn."

She carefully tucked Lennier's hand into the folds of his blankets and motioned John out into the hallway, resolving to keep one eye on the window at all times so she could return to Lennier's side should he show even the most subtle sign of waking.

Once they were outside the hospital room, John kissed her tenderly and then immediately wrapped her into a hug. She practically fell into his embrace, allowing his larger frame to encircle hers as though he were shielding her from this awful and cruel universe. This time, Delenn did perceive a tiny portion of relief wash through her. It was brief and miniscule, but it was there.

"I was beginning to wonder why I hadn't heard from you since yesterday," John murmured into her hair. Delenn stepped backward, and they stood with both of their hands in the others. "But then I happened to see Londo in the Zocalo just now, and he seemed surprised I was unaware Lennier was sick in Medlab. After that, finding you was no great leap."

"It has been a difficult couple of days," Delenn said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Even more difficult, I am afraid, than the past few weeks, as impossible as that may sound."

"What happened? Is Lennier okay?"

"Doctor Franklin thinks it is a bad case of food poisoning, but Lennier has been ill for nearly a week, and he only continues to worsen. He has been somewhat delirious since last night, and the increasing pain in his abdominal muscles is making him terribly uncomfortable. And the sicker he gets, the more worried I become. I must stay with him - the fever has affected his mind enough that my presence seems to be the only thing that will comfort him. But sometimes even that does not seem to work."

Her lip trembled and she blinked back tears. She could not lose her hold over her emotions right now, even with John – there was too much at stake, and she worried that if she began to cry, she would not be able to stop. Delenn had only cried twice in the past two months. The first was as she had sat in front of the view screen on a Minbari cruiser bound for Yedor, watching the destruction of the beloved city where she had grown up unfold before her eyes. The second had been during those terrible, breathtakingly painful hours when Lennier had lain on the operating table of the same cruiser, and she had felt the wrongly familiar sensation that she had no idea if her best friend would live or die. But she had had the _time_ to cry then. There had been nothing she could do but wait for the ship to reach her tattered, war-torn homeworld. But since then, she had had one obligation, one problem after another that had demanded her attention. She could not break down, could not indulge in the oh-so-tempting lure of dissolving into tears and escaping it all for just a little while. She needed to be strong. Tears would do her no good right now.

"How has he been sick for a week?" John sounded baffled.

"He did not want to worry me, so in classic Lennier fashion, he pretended as though nothing was wrong." Delenn sighed and cast a glance through the window at her friend's sleeping form. _Oh, Lennier. My occasionally misguided but so wonderfully sweet and noble Lennier. None of this is your fault, I promise._

John's sigh was exasperated. "Seriously? No, wait, I'm not surprised."

Delenn shot him a stern glance and he looked immediately apologetic. "He thought he would get better. I think by the time he realized he wouldn't, he was nearly too weak to stand. He just wants to protect me – surely you must understand that."

"Of course I understand his motives. Just not his _methods_."

"He feels terrible about the entire thing. He realizes he made a mistake, and I will not hold it against him. I just want him to get well." She broke off, fighting tears once more, and John drew her close and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey," he murmured into her hair. "He'll be okay. He's pulled through worse than this."

Delenn leaned into him, wishing he knew the truest source of her worries. It was not difficult to deduce that Lennier's immune system had been weakened by the sepsis, but Lennier had asked her to tell no one of the genetic condition that could so easily claim his life. He was her dearest friend and she would not betray his confidence – after all, he kept a secret of her own that was so ominous it could shatter everything she had ever worked for in a split second. If Delenn could ask Lennier to keep _that_ to himself, she could certainly abide by his wishes that no one know of his condition. He did not want anyone to treat him any differently because of his increased fragility. He shouldered his burden with humility and poise - that was her Lennier, through and through.

"I cannot stand to see him suffering," she said softly, "and rather selfishly, I am missing his help and support quite a bit right now."

"I just heard about the Temple of Varenni – that was why I came looking for you." John squeezed her hand. "Delenn…I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry."

She nodded, unable to stifle the pain in her gaze.

"What is done is done," she said shakily. "It is a devastating loss, but it is no use continuing to mourn it now. My people – and I – must channel our anger and grief and use it productively. We will find the one who did this, and we will bring them to justice."

John held up a hand. "Far be it from me to get in the way of justice and productivity, but Delenn, you've had a hell of a few weeks. Maybe it would help to grieve just a little bit?"

"I have had too much of grief as of late." Delenn's tone was harsher than she had intended, and she bit back the bitterness on her tongue before it could get stronger. "With all the destruction and killing on my world and the death of Neroon, there has been too much sadness and suffering. And I must channel my energy where it will do the most good – for beyond that which I spend here with Lennier, I have very little to spare." She glanced back through the window, where her dearest friend still slept fitfully.

"If you say so," John replied gently. "I just…Delenn, your enormous capacity for love is one of the things I love the most about you. But I'm worried that right now, it isn't acting in your favor. I've been in war, and I've seen many people I care about die. And the harder you love, the more that takes its toll on you. I know you _can_ handle it, I just don't know if you _should._ So if you were trying to handle it when it wasn't necessarily the best thing for you…you'd let me know?"

His eyes were concerned and loving as they held her gaze, and she felt her heart turn over inside her chest. Even though his life was likely just as difficult and painful as hers was right now, he was still worried about her. She realized then that she had not spared nearly the thoughts for him that he had for her. Yet another layer of guilt molded itself around her many-tiered shell.

"I will." She could barely meet his eyes. "And you would do the same, if you found yourself in such a position?"

"I would," he said with great seriousness. "We're partners, as you are quick to point out. We have to look out for and support each other. I'm sorry if I haven't been there like I should lately."

"So am I. The past couple of months have been…" She broke off, unsure of how to say what she wanted to. No matter what words she uttered next, it would sound as though she were making excuses for being less attentive to him than he had been to her. But then she felt his hand on her cheek. Reaching up and wrapping her fingers around it, she looked up to meet his eyes. And then she knew – he understood. And it was all right.

She pulled his hand away from her face and lightly kissed his fingertips, and he leaned forward to touch his lips to her hair. And for a moment, Delenn's world was bearable. All was not well, but for that one instant it seemed as though there was at least a possibility that everything would be all right eventually. But then a machine beeped in a far-off room, and she vividly remembered sitting with John on the floor the hallway of Medlab the previous year, him slumped against the wall and her cradled in his arms, sobbing, as Doctor Franklin and his nurses fought desperately to save the rapidly crashing Lennier in the next room. And then it all came crashing over her like one of the avalanches that plagued Minbar's southern polar wastelands. Lennier was ill and her world was falling apart yet again and someone was coming to the station with the express intent of taking her life. It was not as though she had not received threats to her life before – it was just that this one came at a terribly inopportune time. She was under so much pressure that she could not put up the barrier that protected her from spiraling into the depths of fear that she normally could – or fear for herself, anyway. Fear for those she loved, however…that was another story entirely. That was a mire in which she could very quickly find herself thoroughly stuck.

"Delenn, what is it?"

She must have tensed without realizing it – she needed to police herself more carefully if she did not want anyone to find out about the threat.

"I am just worried about Lennier," she murmured, forcing herself to meet his eyes again to give him the illusion that she was telling the truth. He studied her thoroughly for a moment, but then nodded. Delenn relaxed and internalized a sigh of relief.

"I obviously don't know the situation as well as you do, but he hasn't quite been the same since he was sick last year, has he? I see the way you worry about him, even when he's not sick. And I think it's great you care about him so much, but it's just…something's wrong, isn't it? With Lennier, I mean. And I'm not talking about food poisoning."

And there they were, treading in dangerous territory once more.

"He has more difficulty fighting off infections than before," she said softly. "And it seems as though it is a bit harder for him to recover, as well." That was not a lie in the least, but it still felt as though she was being deceptive. She loathed feeling that way toward John, even though she supposed she ought to be accustomed to it by now. But she knew the discomfort crawling inside her stomach would be far worse if she betrayed Lennier's confidence, or even if she _neglected_ to say something that would prevent John from knowing the truth. She glanced through the window at her bedridden friend and suddenly felt a desperate need to return to his side. She had, after all, already been away from him for a considerable period of time that day, and if he was going to get as sick as her anxiety was trying to tell her he would, he would need all of the comfort and strength she could provide him. And she wanted to stop talking to John about this.

John seemed to read her body language.

"You should sit with him now. I get the feeling that whatever this is will go better if you're there with him. But could you let me know how he does?"

Warmth wiggled its soft fingers lightly at the edges of Delenn's heart at his attentiveness.

"Yes." She managed a smile. "Thank you. And I will pray for blessings upon all involved in this awful conflict with Earth."

"That might take you awhile," he chuckled sardonically. But then his visage and tone grew more serious. "But thank you. I'll talk to you later?"

She nodded and they exchanged one more quick kiss. Then, John was gone and Delenn was settled back into the chair at Lennier's side. Not much time at all had gone by when Delenn's quiet vigil was interrupted by the rustle of a many-layered, movement-restricting outfit behind her. She turned around and was mildly surprised to see Londo standing in the doorway. The Centauri's thick eyebrows were drawn with worry as he took in Lennier's condition.

"Londo," Delenn murmured, mild surprise evident in her voice. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Help? No." Londo's voice was quieter than normal – Delenn could tell it was an active effort on his part. He was trying to avoid waking Lennier, and for that she was grateful. "No, I asked Vir where he was this morning and he informed me that poor Mister Lennier has been quite unwell. So since Lennier and I are friends, I thought it would be nice to pay him a visit. Good for the morale, you know? But I see that he is asleep, so I will not pester him. I do not wish to disturb his rest."

"I appreciate that, and I am sure he does as well. He has been uncomfortable enough as of late that sleep does not come easily to him – at least not in the quantity required by someone who is ill. He needs all the rest he can get." Delenn folded her hands in her lap, trying not to let the ever-present worry at the back of her mind blossom into something overwhelming.

Londo pulled a chair up next to her at Lennier's bedside. Delenn felt a transient annoyance at his forwardness, intruding upon this tender and delicate time of her ministrations toward Lennier. But she curbed her selfishness just as quickly – Londo was here for Lennier's benefit. He, too, cared for Lennier and wished to do what he could to make him feel better. And therefore, she would welcome his presence.

"We have all had a difficult year," murmured Londo, "but if whose has been the hardest were a contest, I do believe Lennier would be well in the running for winner." Delenn did not miss the sadness in the sigh he uttered. "It is deeply unfortunate."

"Yes, it is." Delenn replied quietly, looking over at her sleeping friend and feeling her heart squeeze painfully once again at the sight of her friend's sunken eyes set against his much too pale face. She bit her bottom lip. She turned her gaze back to Londo then and saw that he was looking directly at her – he had seen the depth of her worry. She knew that he would want to provide comfort, but it was not his way to address the issue head on.

"When we all first came to this place, who would have guessed that the aides our governments assigned to us would become such close friends? I look at Vir and I think of how we used to be – him trembling before me as I barked orders at him. I never disliked him, but he has come to mean so much more to me over the years. We have seen each other in the best and the worst of times, and have grown closer through it all. I think now of what my life would be like without him, and it is a very unpleasant thought." He looked distant for a moment before focusing again on Delenn. She knew what he was doing, and she would be lying if she said she did not appreciate it.

"Lennier and I have always been close," she murmured, taking her best friend's hand where it lay atop the covers and stroking his knuckles lightly. "Ever since the day he stepped off of that transport and onto Babylon 5 for the first time, we have had a connection. I saw then within him so much of my younger self – I could not help but be drawn to him. But soon I got to know Lennier for _Lennier_ , for his tenacity that underlies an overflowing helping of loyalty and devotion, and then I came to care for him for who he was. It was not until he fell so ill last year that I realized that he is, in fact, a part of me. Losing him would create in me a wound so deep that I know it would never heal."

Londo shot her a small smile. "We have both spent a great deal of time grooming our aides to do great things in the future. And while I will readily admit I do not know Lennier as well as you do, I do believe he is far too polite to just die and allow all of that hard work to go to waste. Don't you agree?"

Delenn chuckled softly, grateful for his efforts, but it was difficult for her to sustain any semblance of happiness. Londo's expression echoed her own, happy as she laughed but sad as her joy ended. He fed so much off of others' reactions to him, she knew. Making other people happy made Londo happy. She was sorry she could not give him more, especially when he was being so kind.

"You are enduring much difficulty at the moment, are you not, Delenn?" Londo asked softly. "With the war amongst your people; and today Vir told me about the bombing of your great temple. I was sorry to hear of it." He watched her carefully, observing her reaction. Although she felt his gaze, Delenn could not help but tense with grief at the mention of the Temple of Varenni.

"Yes," she confirmed. "These past few weeks have been far from easy. I am afraid that even though in the past I have refused the position of leader of the Gray Council, as the person willing to stand up and form a new government because it is what was best for our people, I have still been called upon to make fate-changing decisions for my world. It is a great burden, and one I will not hesitate to say I wish I did not need to bear."

"Ah. There, too, is a concept with which I am most familiar." Londo sighed once more, and Delenn detected a deep and permeating weariness in it.

"I suppose you are," she said softly, "Prime Minister Mollari."

He chuckled grimly. "It is a title that I do not feel I deserve, and yet somehow it is mine."

She forced herself to smile gently despite the haunting relatability of those words. "You have come very far, Londo." _And I know exactly how you feel._ When the role of leader of the Gray Council had been offered to her following the death of Jenamer, the one who had taken Dukhat's role, Delenn had turned it down. She loved Minbar and its people so much – that was not the problem. It was that every time she tried to imagine herself standing in the center circle on the _Valen'Tha_ , she remembered holding Dukhat's lifeless body in her arms and screaming for the demise of every human in the universe. She had been the cause of what had very nearly been a genocide; she had faltered gravely in her philosophy of valuing life above all else.

The Minbari people did not deserve a leader like that, and she was in no way deserving of that power.

"I appreciate the compliment." Londo's voice interrupted her reverie. "I suppose I came to realize that even though I did not deserve the power that comes with being Prime Minister, the good of the people should come first. My duty is to the Centauri Empire and its people, first and foremost."

 _Self-punishment is a form of self-indulgence,_ Delenn realized with a jolt. She _had_ done the right thing. Just like Londo, she had stepped up when her people needed her, despite her reservations. She had done at least this right, and that thought gave her just the smallest bit of comfort in this terrible time.

Seeing that he had accomplished at least part of his aim, Londo got to his feet.

"Thank you for allowing me to visit, Delenn. Lennier…recover swiftly, my friend. Good afternoon."

Delenn watched him go, clinging to the smallest bit of hope he had left in his wake. She had not expected a conversation with Londo to encourage her, but there was much about the Centauri Prime Minister that was surprising her as of late. But no matter; now was not the time to dwell on it. Delenn turned back to Lennier and resumed watching over her friend as he slept and saying more prayers for healing and protection than should need to be said in a lifetime, let alone in one day.


	7. Chessboard

The first thing Lennier felt when he surfaced from the depths of sleep was discomfort – nausea and pain. It was enough for him to wish he had not woken at all. But the second thing he felt was Delenn's thumb running over his knuckles again and again in a wonderfully familiar and comforting repetition. It was _almost_ sweet enough to make up for how terrible he felt.

"Good evening," Delenn said quietly, a smile pricking the corners of her mouth upward. Part of the smile _was_ genuine. She was happy to see him awake, glad to speak to him and be near to him. But even through his fever and queasiness, Lennier could see in her gray eyes the worry he was by now so accustomed to. Worry for _him_.

"Delenn." He managed the smallest of smiles. "It's so good to see you." He inwardly cursed the way his voice trembled. His body was doing very little to assist him in his quest to convince Delenn that everything would be all right.

"I am sorry I was not here when you woke earlier," she told him, the apology reflected on her face. "I…needed to investigate a possible lead about the bombing of the temple."

Lennier's already painful stomach clenched at the mention of the recently destroyed historical landmark, and he stifled a grimace. But he fought back against his desire to lay in a still silence, trying his hardest to ignore how terrible he felt. His need for closure was too great, as was his want to listen to everything Delenn might have to tell him.

"Did…did you find out who did it?"

Delenn's face fell, and she shook her head, sadness in her eyes. "No, I am afraid not. I am sorry, Lennier. I am trying so hard to find the person responsible for this atrocity, but so far none of my efforts have come to fruition." She let go of his hand and lowered her eyes. Forcing himself to endure the room-spinning wave of nausea that struck him as he pushed his body upward to support himself, Lennier reached out and caught her hand as she pulled it back and held it as firmly as he could in his weakness.

"Why are you apologizing?" A whisper was all he could manage, and he hated that he could not buttress his voice with more strength than that.

"Because I know this tragedy has hurt you just as much as it has hurt me, both in the loss of Minbar's great religious relic and the danger this new threat poses to our people. And I…I want to make something good happen for you." She shifted her fingers within his hand so that they were intertwined with his. He had not missed the way her voice trembled. He hated seeing her upset, and he hated even more that he was at least a part of the reason for it.

"Good things happen for me just as long as you are here next to me. So please don't be sorry. You are making me feel so much better just by being here." _Please believe me, Delenn. I know I am not putting on a very convincing show at the moment. But you are what gives me the strength to keep fighting, even when I cannot see an end to the battle. You always have been._

His efforts were rewarded with the ghost of a smile. "My sweet Lennier. Always trying to make me feel better, even when things are going far worse for you."

Nausea forced Lennier to shift his position, but the movement brought on a stab of pain in the pit of his stomach that was strong enough to make him need to catch his breath. "They haven't…haven't exactly been going well for you, either. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you." He ought to have known that would upset her more, but the fever was altering his thought patterns just enough that he could not stop himself from saying it.

"Lennier, none of this is your fault." Delenn's eyes were wide. "You must not feel guilty about it. I do dearly miss my friend and confidant, of course – not to mention my aide. But right now, all I want is for you to feel better. Everything else – the temple, the Gray Council, all of it – I know it will be all right in time. So you need not worry about any of it, or about me. You just concentrate on getting well." She cupped her free hand over his fingers where they rested between her own.

Lennier decided to allow her to believe she had convinced him, for her sake. She _almost_ had. He nodded and hoped she was reassured. He would have attempted to comfort her further, but the more energy he put forward to speak, the worse his stomach hurt. He curled up more tightly and shut his eyes. Even though he could no longer see Delenn's face, he had no doubt that the concern there was only intensifying – this was evidenced by the way she squeezed his hand just a bit harder than she would have to simply convey reassurance.

He was too uncomfortable to go back to sleep, so he remained as still as he could, praying for the smallest alleviation with each breath. Delenn stroked his knuckles rhythmically, each pass providing him with just enough strength to face his ordeal. After a time, his nausea lessened a bit, and he was able to open his eyes without the room rotating around him. Delenn saw this and smiled encouragingly at him; he was able to return it.

"Delenn." Captain Sheridan poked his head around the doorway. "I brought you some lunch. For whenever you want it."

"Thank you, that was kind. Could you leave it with the receptionist so I can eat it later?" she replied, shooting a smile in his direction before turning her attention back to Lennier.

"You should eat your food while it is still hot," Lennier murmured. He had to curb the thought of eating anything at all because he could only guess what it would do to him. He was grateful the Captain had been considerate enough not to bring the food into his hospital room. He was positive his stomach could not have handled that.

"I will when you go back to sleep," she said firmly, but Lennier donned an expression that implied he wished more than anything for her to take care of herself, complete with pleading eyes and a combination of worry and guilt. Delenn broke down. "All right. I will be back in a few minutes." She rested her palm briefly on his cheek before rising and leaving the room, pecking the Captain's lips with her own and accepting the brown bag of food on the way out.

Sheridan smiled briefly at Lennier and began to turn to follow her, but Lennier mustered up all the strength he could to project his voice loudly enough for the Captain to hear him from the doorway.

"Captain Sheridan?"

"Yes, Lennier?"

With his right arm, moving slowly to avoid tangling his intravenous line, Lennier motioned for Sheridan to come into the room. Looking marginally surprised, the Captain approached the bed. He awkwardly hovered beside it for a moment, his tall frame towering above the prostrate Lennier, before lowering himself into the chair Delenn had vacated.

Though his symptoms were ever so slightly less prominent than they had been earlier that day, Lennier knew that speaking would still exacerbate them. He steeled himself, determined to say what he needed to. "Captain, I…wanted to thank you…for being there for Delenn when I cannot be. I know you are not doing it for me, but all the same…I am glad she has someone to comfort her."

"Um, yeah." Sheridan blinked, looking a little taken aback at the exchange of which he was currently a part. Despite their unspoken peaceful coexistence, Sheridan and Lennier did not often interact, and so Lennier's heartfelt admission was not at all the norm. "I mean, this is Delenn we're talking about – even if she were the only being in the universe, she'd survive on sheer willpower alone. But she's not, and I love her, so I want to do whatever I can to help her when things get difficult. Not that you're being difficult…or at least purposefully…you know what, I'm just gonna stop talking now." He heaved a massive groan and scrubbed at his face with his palms.

"No, it…it's all right," Lennier murmured. "I am afraid I have been quite a burden to everyone as of late, especially Delenn." He curled his fingers around his blanket as the pang of self-loathing that reverberated in his stomach aggravated his pain and nausea. He hoped the Captain would not notice his increase in discomfort, but if Sheridan did, he did not let on.

"She doesn't see it like that at all." Sheridan shook his head. "She just worries about you. A _lot_."

Lennier swallowed hard. "I know," he whispered shakily, lowering his eyes. "Believe me, I know."

"Of course she doesn't blame you for any of it," amended Sheridan quickly. "She just cares so much about you. And as we previously established, I'm doing everything I can to make her feel better, but I think after last year she's all the more afraid that something's going to happen to take you away from her." He sat back and shook his head. "I'm sorry. This is a really bad time to talk about this. None of it is your fault and I know you feel terrible about it. You're sick; you shouldn't be worrying about any of this. I'll keep taking care of Delenn – you don't have to worry about a thing – and…"

"She has every right to be worried." Lennier suppressed a shudder as the memory of the previous year, when Doctor Franklin had broken the news of his genetic condition to him, came worming its way into his consciousness. He had been ready to leave Babylon 5 and Delenn forever, in his grief convinced that the only way to protect her from further pain was to walk out of her life forever. Delenn had, of course, gently shown him the error in his reasoning, and he was eternally grateful that they had been able to remain a part of each other's lives. But the thing he hated most about his condition was not that it had the ability to make him desperately ill or even take his life at essentially any point, but the agony that it put Delenn through worrying about him and watching him suffer. It was not fair to her, and it was even less fair that she could not share her worries with her partner. She deserved to be able to talk to someone about her problems. Often, Lennier was her confidant, and he was honored that she would share her secrets and concerns with him. But when Lennier was the cause of Delenn's troubles – which with his recent illnesses he was far too often – Delenn needed someone else to talk to.

But when Lennier had first received his diagnosis, he had asked Delenn and Marcus not to tell anyone because he had not wanted to be treated any differently. It was bad enough having people worry about his immune system being weakened from the sepsis – he certainly did not need anyone panicking about the prospect of him so much as pricking his finger and acting like he was some fragile relic that would shatter if not handled with the greatest of care. Marcus had once called Lennier a "protector", and he was right. Lennier had a strong, innate need to protect all with whom he was close, and that drive was by far the strongest with Delenn. But he could not protect her if he was not allowed to. He could not let others' concern for his health stop him from following the calling of his heart – which was to serve Delenn and ensure her safety.

But to his chagrin, Lennier now realized how selfish he had been. He had been sabotaging his own efforts to protect Delenn while also trying to protect himself. But of course it was Delenn who was most important, not Lennier. If she could confide in the Captain, it might make her feel better. And with Lennier himself being the cause of so much of her pain at the moment, he would give up anything to make things easier for her. Including his secrets.

Sheridan was watching him expectantly, as if he knew Lennier was preparing to impart some important knowledge upon him. Lennier told himself that the Captain's interest in his private affairs was only for Delenn's benefit. But that did not make telling him any easier.

Lennier took a shaky breath and steeled himself for the explanation, which would involve using far more words than he felt his body was up to. "There is a reason Delenn is so concerned about the possibility of my death. I am afraid there is a higher chance of it occurring than you may have been led to believe. After my illness last year, I was diagnosed with a genetic condition that causes my body to be unable to produce the antibodies needed to combat a particular bacterium that is ubiquitous in the environment. That was what caused the sepsis, and any illness or challenge to my immune system or any bleeding injury at all puts my life in danger. My condition is managed with injections of the missing antibody and careful monitoring, but combined with a weakened immune system as a result of the sepsis, it places me in grave danger, especially in times of illness." Lennier felt dizzy and shaky after such an extended speech. Despite the awkwardness of doing so as he lay on his side, he folded his hands as became a good Religious Caste Minbari expressing respect, lowering his eyes appropriately and trying to ignore his physical discomfort.

There was a long pause, so long that Lennier was tempted to break protocol and look up at the Captain to try to judge his reaction. But after several seconds, Sheridan spoke, his voice low.

"You are telling me this for Delenn's sake, aren't you? So she can confide in me without having to betray your confidence?"

Lennier nodded against his pillow. "I didn't want anyone to know because everyone already treats me like I'm going to break. I couldn't imagine how much worse it would be if people knew how… _fragile_ I really am." The word tasted bitter on his tongue as he contemplated the precariousness of his own existence. Some protector he was. But if he could not provide Delenn with physical protection, the least he could do was give her whatever emotional security he could. "But it was cruel of me to ask Delenn to keep this a secret when I knew how much she worries about me. I am swallowing my pride now, for her sake. She is so good to me, and I have not repaid her kindness appropriately." His thumbs trembled where he held their tips in apposition.

"I'm pretty sure she'd disagree with you there. She…Lennier, would you _please_ look at me? I know it's a Minbari thing but it really bothers me when people don't look at me when I'm talking to them. Thank you, I appreciate that. Anyway, Delenn cares about you a _lot_. And I know she understands why you wanted your condition to be a secret. She just wants you to be okay. But from the perspective of someone else who cares very deeply for Delenn, I'm very grateful that you told me about this. I'm sorry you're dealing with it - even ignoring all you mean to Delenn, you're a really good person, Lennier, did you know that? You don't deserve any of this. But I think you telling me this will make it easier for Delenn and I to talk about what's bothering her. So thank you. And I promise I won't tell anyone else what you told me."

"Thank you," whispered Lennier shakily. He could not further respond to the Captain's kind words because he suddenly realized that his strength had been taxed so thoroughly by this conversation that he could not manage further speech.

Sheridan nodded. "You look tired – I'll let you rest. I hope you feel better soon. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

 _Just take care of her,_ Lennier thought as he shut his eyes and lay still, enduring his lot as he waited for Delenn's comforting presence to return.

Delenn had not planned on getting much sleep that night – plastic Medlab chairs were not exactly conducive to proper rest. But she slept even less than she had anticipated, for Lennier continued to worsen overnight. It seemed as though he could barely rest, even though his body clearly cried out for it. He kept trying to change position in his half-sleep, but between his weakness and the obvious increasing severity of his pain and nausea, he never seemed to get comfortable. Delenn assisted him in whatever way she could, helping him shift and turn, all the while trying her best to avoid touching his tender abdomen. She accidentally pressed on it once; though the touch was only slight, Lennier inhaled sharply and winced. Delenn immediately withdrew her hand, apologizing and making sure she had not done any lingering damage. Lennier needed to take a couple of measured, shaky breaths before he was able to reassure her that he was all right, but the way his face contorted told Delenn otherwise. And when he vomited, which was several times that night, Delenn needed to physically hold him upright. His body shuddered violently against her and he went rigid with pain with every abdominal contraction.

At one point, Lennier whispered that he felt too warm, so Delenn removed the shawl and all of his many blankets. She fetched a bowl of cool water and began to press a dampened cloth to his forehead. Lennier closed his eyes and leaned forward into the coolness, seeming to relax just the tiniest bit. Reassured by the fact that at last _something_ she was doing seemed to be easing Lennier's discomfort at least a little, Delenn dabbed gently along Lennier's face and neck, periodically replacing the cloth into the basin and ringing it out whenever the temperature of the towel equilibrated with the warmth of her friend's feverish body. Delenn glanced hopefully up at the vitals monitor, knowing that perceived warmth by a patient could be a sign of a fever breaking. But the temperature reading did not budge, and soon enough Lennier was shivering again. Delenn felt her heart sink as she wrapped him back up.

Lennier's temperature _did_ change then, as night rolled into early morning, but not at all in the way Delenn had hoped. It only took about an hour for his fever to go up an entire half a degree. And what was even worse, when Delenn called her friend's name softly and gently squeezed his shoulder, he seemed listless, only swallowing and blinking at her a couple of times before lowering his gaze and closing his eyes. Delenn felt an all-too-familiar fear wrap icy fingers around her heart. That was it. She was calling for the doctor.

Franklin came immediately, frowning as he examined the vitals monitor.

"Please do what you think is best, Doctor," whispered Delenn, her voice trembling. "But he will be in agony if you place him on cooling pads."

Franklin's expression of discontent deepened at her words. He observed his patient, lying still in the bed but for the shivering and his breathing, which occasionally shook.

"Let's try taking off all the blankets but one first," he muttered. "I don't want to put him in danger of too high of a fever, but we've _got_ to give his body every chance's it's got to fight the infection. If it thinks it needs to be warmer to beat this, then we have to give it the opportunity to see if it works."

"But we have been giving it so much opportunity. It has not helped." Delenn folded her arms protectively across her chest. We she spoke next, she could barely hear her own voice. "He is worse again, isn't he?"

Franklin sighed. Delenn was not at all comforted by the defeat in that sigh. "Yeah. Between the fever and what you've described, I'm not gonna lie – I'm worried. His immune system took one hell of a beating last year, and it's just not coping with this well at all. Unfortunately, there's very little we can do to help him on that front. Medicine has plenty of ways to suppress the immune system, but to strengthen it?" Franklin shook his head sadly. "I can give him a Vitamin A injection, but I doubt it will help much, if any. I'm also going to up his pain meds, see if they can take the edge off. Poor guy's probably sprained every muscle in his abdomen by now – it's understandable why he hurts so much. The meds might make him even more lethargic, so I don't want that to worry you. Hopefully it will help him rest a little."

"Yes," said Delenn somewhat distantly, her brain still attempting to sort through and process all the information the doctor had just given her. "He ought to rest. The poor thing, it is as though he has been depleted of every last ounce of his strength. He is too weak even to sit up."

Franklin's frown deepened. "Then he definitely needs to have someone with him at all times – aspiration pneumonia is the last thing he needs right now. If you can't be here all the time, let me knew and I'll get a nurse…"

"That is all right, thank you," replied Delenn. "Marcus can always help. I know he does not mind."

"Speaking of Marcus, he seems to have been hanging around with you an awful lot these past couple of days," observed Franklin. "Did he get bored flying _White Stars_ and doing reconnaissance for the war effort?" The joke sounded tired and forced. Delenn appreciated him at least attempting to lighten the mood, although she did not know if she could reciprocate at that very moment.

"Marcus has been…assisting me while Lennier has been ill," she replied. "He has been very kind and I am grateful for all of his help." _And grateful that he has not told anyone about the threat against my life._

"That's nice of him," Franklin observed as he changed the number on the syringe pump containing Lennier's pain medication so that it dispensed more of the drug more quickly. "Although technically you _are_ his boss."

Delenn afforded him a small smile and settled back into her chair next to Lennier's bed. Franklin finished his adjustments and bid her good night, letting her know to fetch him immediately should things get worse. As her fingertips slowly traced the line where Lennier's headbone met his skin over and over again, unsettling thoughts brought on by her conversation with Franklin danced tauntingly at the edges of Delenn's consciousness. Was she taking advantage of Marcus's loyalty to his cause? The mantra of the Rangers was "we live for the One; we die for the One". But just because Delenn happened to _be_ the One did not mean she was entitled to put her friend at risk for her own safety. It was the same with Lennier – just because her cause was good and just and important did not make it right that she had worked him so much harder than his already weakened body could take. What had she done in her life to deserve their loyalty? Started a war that had nearly wiped out an entire race? Thrown her world into chaos because she disagreed with its power structure? She coped with so many of the decisions she made by telling herself that even though some of the consequences might be terrible, in the end the positive outweighed the negative. But what right had she to make those decisions? Ambassador, _Satai_ , child of Valen…none of it gave her the authority to make the universe into her personal chessboard. And none of it allowed her to risk the safety of other people, of her _friends_.

Delenn suspended her attempts at comforting Lennier for a moment and drew her knees up to her chin, instinctively trying to make herself seem as small as she felt. She was adjusting herself when Marcus appeared in the doorway.

"Delenn?" There was a slight uncertainty in his voice. "There's someone in the waiting room to see you – a Minbari. He would not tell me his name, but he says he knows you."

Delenn felt her blood run ice cold. Could this be it – her would-be assassin here to bring her to her end? Selfishly, she nearly asked Marcus to accompany her, but stopped herself, reminded of her thoughts from but moments ago. Besides, Lennier should not be left alone.

"Thank you, Marcus," she said, unfolding her limbs and getting slowly to her feet. "Will you stay with Lennier? His fever is a little higher, but I think he is finally asleep. He is quite weak, and will need assistance with sitting up should he vomit again."

Marcus shot a worried glance at the curled up form of his friend before he turned back to Delenn, his blue eyes troubled. "Delenn, as concerned as I am for Lennier, I really think I need to come with you."

Delenn forced a smile. "Marcus, I promise you we will not leave Medlab. Whoever my visitor is will hardly try anything in such a busy location."

"There is no guarantee of that." Marcus's eyes flashed defiantly, but Delenn tempered his fire with a stern order.

"Marcus, I _need_ you to stay here." The abruptness in her tone left no room for argument, and Marcus knew this. He stared at her for several seconds, hurt in his gaze. But then he dipped his head and took a standing position at Lennier's bedside, ignoring the presence of the chair Delenn had vacated, enough gravity in his expression to hold planets in orbit.

"Be careful, Delenn."

"I will," she whispered. She glanced one more time at Lennier's uneasily sleeping form and felt her heart squeeze as she left the room. She squared her shoulders and measured her breathing as she proceeded down the hall. She rounded the corner into the waiting room and braced herself.


	8. No Matter What

Delenn barely had the time to prepare herself for the worst when she felt all of the tension release from her body in a flood at the sight of her visitor.

"Dralrenn!"

The familiar face of her fellow Religious Caste member was a great relief to her. Dralrenn was a respected elder within their Caste, and one of the heads of a temple outside Yedor. Delenn had personally met him several times, and held respect for him. He had always held a great loyalty to his caste, which was why he had been among those Delenn had chosen to accompany her on her on the cruiser to Minbar as she and Neroon had discussed their plans for ending the Civil War. She had needed a stalwart group to stare down Neroon's solid line of Warriors, and Delenn had been impressed with the bravery and tenacity of the Religious Caste members who had accompanied her on that ship. Even though the Warrior Caste could be very intimidating, her caste mates had remained strong, like an anchor for her in the storm of war. They had been proof that her cause and all that she was going through was worthwhile.

"Delenn." The older Minbari greeted her with a triangle-handed bow, which Delenn returned respectfully. "I did not want to give that human who was out here any information. I do not know him, and despite his reassurances, I do not know how well he knows you."

"Marcus is a friend," soothed Delenn. "But that is all right."

"It is good to see you well," continued Dralrenn. "When the rather tenacious young human in charge of security was finallyconvinced I meant neither you nor anyone else on the station harm – your security is _very_ strict here – he told me I could find you in the medical facility. Of course, he had me fearing the worst!"

"I apologize for the confusion," said Delenn, taking a seat. "It is Lennier who has been taken ill. He is my dearest friend, and I have been keeping him company as best I can."

"Oh." Dralrenn looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Is it a consequence of the injuries he sustained to his lungs while onboard the cruiser?"

Delenn shook her head. "No. I am afraid he is just having run of bad luck with his health." _You have no idea how much of a run it is._

"Ah." The older Minbari nodded understandingly. "I do hope it is nothing serious?" The inflection implied that he was asking a question.

Delenn sighed and clasped her hands tightly in front of her. "I hope so as well. Everyone else on the cruiser that day sees Lennier as a brave and selfless hero, enduring great suffering to save an entire ship full of people. But only I know how _normal_ those actions were for Lennier. Such a sacrifice would have been once in a lifetime for most people. But for Lennier, always so willing to give of himself for the good of others, saving us all was just one item on an innumerable list of self-sacrifices. It is just who he is – a dear friend and a wonderful person. It is a cruel twist of fate that he should have to endure so much suffering when he deserves the utter antithesis."

"I will pray for his swift recovery," said Dralrenn with a dip of his head.

"I appreciate that very much, and I am sure he will as well." Delenn smiled softly. "Now, my friend, what has brought you all the way out here to Babylon 5? It is quite a journey."

The older Minbari's face darkened, and Delenn felt her gut twist with concern, fearing more bad news from her homeworld.

Dralrenn inhaled deeply. "I am here on a pilgrimage of sorts," he began.

"A pilgrimage?" asked Delenn curiously. "That is admirable. What sort of pilgrimage?"

"One of the most personal kinds," responded Dralrenn quietly. "The shedding of guilt."

Delenn furrowed her brow. "Guilt for what, Dralrenn?"

Dralrenn swallowed uncomfortably. "It is about what we were just talking about – that day on the cruiser. It…it did not happen exactly the way you think it did. I am afraid we all – the Religious entourage, that is – made a terrible mistake. But it was my idea, and therefore I would like to take responsibility, no matter what the consequences."

"Consequences of _what_? Dralrenn, please tell me what you are talking about!" Delenn's anxiety and nervousness were becoming worse by the second.

"It was all the result of a terrible misunderstanding. We did not know what you were planning, Delenn, only that you were planning it with a prominent member of the Warrior Caste. You can understand why we would be suspicious. But the soul food of the Religious Caste is faith, and I am afraid we were all starved for faith that day. All but Lennier, that is. In all of that turmoil, his faith in you never wavered for a moment."

Delenn's heart took a millisecond break from pounding wildly to think of her dear friend and aide with warmth and affection, but the apprehension presented itself again soon enough as Dralrenn continued.

"I seek not to make excuses, Delenn, but only to offer an explanation. You must understand, we were all afraid. Afraid for our world, and for the future of our caste. For us, surrender to the Warrior Caste was a fate worse than death. So we chose what we believed to be the lesser of two evils."

Delenn's eyes widened as the meaning of his words, which he had been dancing around, struck her like a blow from a _Denn'bok_. She did not want to believe it. She tried to think of other explanations, things that were less terrible than what she was reading into Dralrenn's words. But she knew in her heart that they were not true.

Her throat felt dry as she whispered, "The residue in the air recycling system. You put it there."

Dralrenn nodded. "We all formed the plan together, but it was I who suggested the act itself. We dared not confess to you then, but the remorse for my actions has been clawing at my soul ever since that day. I pledged my life to religion and service, Delenn, and now I have tried to kill people. I do not deserve to be a part of the Religious Caste anymore, and I know I should pay penance for my actions. Prison, banishment, whatever it may be…I leave my fate in your hands." He bowed his head, the points of his headbone aimed at Delenn's face.

"But I do not understand," whispered Delenn. "Why, Dralrenn? Why do this? There was no plan to surrender to the Warrior Caste."

"We thought there was. The way you interacted with Neroon, your secret meetings behind closed doors…like I said, Delenn, we were afraid. And fear makes people draw conclusions and take actions they should not."

"Clearly," Delenn all but spat. She stared at him, her disbelief giving way to anger. "Cowards. All of you. For both your actions and for not telling me sooner. For allowing me to continue to believe in the integrity of my caste, when really the Warriors were better than you! At least when they attacked Neroon, the damage was limited only to him, and they did not flee the scene or refuse to confess!"

"We might have told you sooner," Dralrenn admitted. "But Lennier told us not too. After what he had just suffered for us, we had to oblige him."

Delenn froze, feeling icy fingers grab onto her spine. "Lennier knew?"

Dralrenn held his gaze on the floor and nodded. "He will likely be very unhappy with me for telling you. But Delenn, I could live with myself no longer. No matter what happens now, at least I can begin to approach peace with myself."

Delenn barely heard his words. Lennier had known all along. Why, _why_ had he not told her? She had always had a deep, grounded trust in her friend, but now she felt that tremble, like tree roots in a planetquake. It was as though her foundation had shifted.

She realized she could not bear to be in the same room as Dralrenn, who had betrayed her trust so thoroughly. Of course, all of the members of the Religious Caste on that cruiser had betrayed her, but Dralrenn's presence was an overwhelming reminder of her caste members' shameful actions. She wanted nothing more to do with him, or any of them. But Lennier…she cared about Lennier too much to be angry with him without knowing the whole story. And she needed to know _now._

"Get out." It was clearly an order, but Dralrenn looked taken aback.

"I should think you would want me in a holding cell."

"Remain in this room for so much as another second and that is exactly where you will find yourself," Delenn hissed, gray eyes narrowed and fists clenched at her sides. Dralrenn quickly got to his feet, bowed, and made for the door. Delenn immediately turned and hurried back to Lennier's room.

Marcus had been standing when she had left, but was now seated in the chair next to the bed, steadying the large bowl that had been on the bedside table in one hand and supporting Lennier's slight frame in a vaguely sitting position with the other. As Delenn watched, Marcus lowered their friend down slowly so that he lay on his side on the bed, which appeared to be the least uncomfortable position for him as of late. Lennier was trembling even more than he had been before. Marcus said something to Lennier, his voice low enough that Delenn could not make out his words, but from Marcus's expression she guessed they were words of reassurance. Lennier closed his eyes, his face drawn, and Marcus laid a gentle hand on his friend's blanketed shoulder. When the Ranger saw Delenn, he got to his feet to offer her the chair.

"Thank you, Marcus," she murmured as she sat down. "Would you mind if I spoke to Lennier alone for a moment?"

"Please do," he replied. "I think he needs you just now. I'll take care of this." He indicated the bowl.

"Thank you," Delenn murmured as she took the chair. Lennier opened his eyes at the sound of her voice, love and pain mingling in his soft brown gaze. Delenn felt her resolve crumble into dust at the sight of it. Lennier was much too ill for her to confront him about the events on the cruiser now. The last thing she wanted was to upset him and make things worse. She felt hurt by his actions, yes, and even a little betrayed. But she had never once doubted Lennier's loyalty or devotion to her – she had never met a more faithful soul. They needed to talk about this, but it would keep. It would have to. Delenn rested the palm of her hand along Lennier's cheek as he shifted uncomfortably in the bed, noting with a sinking feeling in her heart that her poor friend felt more feverish than ever.

"Did you get sick again?" she asked softly, and he nodded against his pillow, his arm instinctively tightening around his abdomen as his whole body shivered. His blanket had been cast askew when Marcus had hurriedly assisted him in sitting up, and Delenn now pulled it back up around his shoulders.

"Thank you," murmured Lennier. "I keep hoping that if I just concentrate hard enough on not feeling nauseous, it will happen. Unfortunately, it has not worked yet." He attempted a weak chuckle, but it ended with a sharp intake of breath and a wince.

Delenn intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed them sympathetically. "You seem to be more alert than you were earlier. That is progress, I think."

"I'm sorry it isn't more," Lennier whispered sadly.

"It is not something you can control, my dear," murmured Delenn.

"All the same, I…I wish I was better so you would not be so worried."

"I know." She stroked the side of his finger with her thumb. It never failed to humble her when Lennier said that sort of thing. If anything, high fevers made him even _more_ selfless than he usually was, which was quite a feat given his normal state of being. She thought back once more to how he had very nearly died on the cruiser, poisoning his own lungs so they could all live. _All_ of them – Delenn, Neroon, Warriors, traitors. The conversation with Dralrenn was still extremely fresh in her mind, and she felt her stomach turn as she recalled it.

"I'm sorry." Lennier's whimpered apology shook her from her memories.

To her alarm, Delenn saw that her friend's eyes were wide and rapidly filling with tears. She quickly cupped her free hand along his cheek. "Sorry for what, Lennier?"

"You look so upset," he whispered. "I'm trying to get better, Delenn, I'm trying so hard…"

 _Oh._ High fevers _also_ made Lennier incredibly emotional. But despite that, he was just as perceptive as ever.

"I know you are," she soothed. "And you are being so very brave and strong. I am of course terribly worried about you, but there are other things on my mind as well. Please do not blame yourself." She hoped he would settle after that, but Lennier was just feverish enough that he persisted.

"What other things?" he whispered, his eyes frantically searching hers. "Delenn, what's wrong?"

"It is nothing you need worry about just now," she murmured, keeping her voice as soft and soothing as possible. "I will be fine. You ought to try to rest some more so you can keep up your strength and fight this awful infection." She ran her hand gently along the curve of his headbone, hoping her touch would soothe him. But Lennier fidgeted beneath her hand and kept his gaze, overflowing with worry, locked with hers.

"But Delenn, you are hurting," he whimpered. "I can see it in your eyes. Please, I want so much to help you." The tears began to spill from his fever-glassed eyes, and Delenn knew she had no choice. They were having this conversation now, whether she liked it or not.

"Oh, Lennier," she murmured, wondering if she sounded as weary as she felt. "I will always love you no matter what may try to force its way between us. You know that, don't you?" Lennier nodded, looking more apprehensive by the second. "And that because I love you, you will always have my forgiveness when you inadvertently wrong me. Which is almost never, of course," she amended quickly. She realized that her attempts at softening the blow were completely backfiring when Lennier triangled his shaking hands. What was she thinking? Of course he would immediately assume she was angry with him. This was _Lennier_ , after all. She needed to get to the point, and quickly. She inhaled deeply, trying to gather her strength.

"Lennier, when I was gone for a few minutes just now…I was speaking with Dralrenn."

Delenn had not realized it possible for Lennier's face to get any paler than it already was. But it did. He did not say anything, however – he seemed to be waiting for Delenn to continue, attempting to assess the situation with a brain muddled by exhaustion and high fever. Not wanting to prolong his misery even further, Delenn continued quietly, the ache in her heart reflected in the slight wavering of her voice.

"He told what really happened that day on the cruiser. He confessed that the… _plot_ was his idea, but that the whole of the Religious Caste entourage were involved. That they tried to kill us all. And that you knew." Her throat had gone so dry that it felt scratchy when she swallowed. "You have kept secrets from me in the past because you thought it to be to my benefit. Even though it is not up to you to decide what is best for me, I have respected your actions because I know you do them out of love for me. But _this_ …Lennier, I needed to know about this. You should have told me."

She cast back to the moment Neroon had come into her quarters on the cruiser and told her that he knew not how or why, but Lennier was in sickbay, unconscious and preparing to undergo emergency surgery. Delenn was accustomed to dealing with crises, and it did not take her long to take action – she had gone next door to Lennier's quarters and rummaged through his things until she had found his antibodies, and then run faster than she had thought herself capable to sickbay. But after Neroon had first delivered that news, it had taken her a few seconds – only a few – to be able to act. And she would never forget those few seconds – the panic and horror that had dug icy fingertips into her heart at Neroon's words. It had been difficult to breathe and impossible to move, and she had remembered how sick Lennier had been only a few months before and how desperately close she had been to losing him and how she _could not_ bear to go through that again…And then later, after hours of pacing to and fro across her quarters, unable to focus on anything - not even the plans for ending the war she had made with Neroon – she had received word that Lennier was recovering from the anesthesia. The doctor had met her in sickbay, where her friend was still unconscious. And it was then, from Neroon's personal physician (an elderly doctor trained mostly in field medicine and trauma, as all Warrior Caste medical personnel undoubtedly were) that Delenn learned the details of what had happened to her dearest friend.

 _Salvage procedure_. Those had been the words the doctor had used. _Your little attaché is incredibly lucky. He must only have had a passing exposure to the residue – much longer and there would have been no need for surgery. There is minor damage to his trachea and bronchi, but it should resolve with a few days' rest. But I am afraid some of the corrosive residue settled in his lungs. I was able to repair most of the damage – mild scarring should be the extent of what remains. But there was nothing I could do to save the inferior lobe of the right lung. The damage was just too severe. Luckily, the surgery itself has a good prognosis – once he has fully recovered, a mild shortness of breath with exercise at high altitudes should be all he experiences. But my primary concern is with this genetic condition of his. It is a good thing you came when you did – I was able to start the antibodies as an infusion before I cut into him, and we were both in isolation from the beginning of the surgery until the end. But no matter how many precautions we took, there is still a possibility of infection. I do hope it all turns out for the better. We all owe him our lives this day – he seems a brave soul, and I, for one, am very grateful for his actions._

The doctor had called Lennier "lucky". "Lucky" was not the word Delenn would have used. Lennier had been through far more pain in a year than anyone should need to experience in a lifetime. He had been on the verge of death several times and diagnosed with an incurable disease that would plague him for the rest of his life. And with each new round of suffering he experienced, Delenn's heart ached so badly that it hurt to breathe. And there was always the fear and worry that _this_ could be it. _This_ could be the time she lost him. It only need happen once, and then Delenn herself would be lost forever. It was a terrible weight to carry, but Delenn had resigned herself to it, because she loved Lennier and she knew there was nothing he could do about any of this. But this time…this time was different.

"It all could have been avoided," she whispered as the realization struck her. "You did not have to climb into that tube, Lennier. You could have told me what was going on and we could have dealt with it _safely_. What were you thinking?" Tears began to leak from her eyes, the first she had been able to cry in weeks. Now it felt as though she could not control them. "I almost lost you, Lennier. Again. You speak so often of not wanting to cause me pain. Why, then, did you leave me alone, not knowing if I would ever see you again?"

She was properly crying now, the fear that was resurfacing with her memories commandeering her self-control. But then, swiping her sleeve across her eyes, she looked up at her friend and realized with horror what she had done. Lennier was shaking so badly that he was barely able to keep his hands cupped together in their classic respectful position. Tears flowed freely down his ashen cheeks, and with every sniffle he winced a little at the pain it inflicted upon his abdomen. Guilt seized Delenn at her lack of discretion. Lennier tended to be hard on himself on a good day – the fever would undoubtedly leave him with an unimaginable case of self-loathing. Delenn slowly reached out and tried to lay her hand on his arm, but when he flinched away as soon as her fingertips brushed his skin, her heart broke.

"Oh Lennier, I am sorry. I…I spoke those words out of fear, without thinking of their impact on you. I ought not to have upset you while you are so ill. I just keep thinking about how scared I was, and I am afraid I allowed the memory to overwhelm me. I just did not want to lose you, Lennier."

"No, you…you have every right to be angry with me." Lennier's whisper trembled more than a little. "Because you are correct – I did put you through pain and worry when it was far from necessary. And I am indescribably sorry for it." His shoulders hitched with a little sob, and he gritted his teeth against the pain it sent shooting through his abdomen. Delenn tried once more to touch him, and this time he allowed her to take his hand.

"On the contrary, my dearest friend, despite my earlier words, it is your pain I most lament over. The universe has been positively cruel to you as of late."

"That is just it." Lennier's fever-bright eyes were wide and earnest. "It has not been. For all of the pain I have endured, having you as my friend has made it all worthwhile. I watch the horrors on our world and everything going on around us and it scares me, Delenn. There are times when I feel so terribly out of place here, like I should never have left Temple. But then I look at you and I remember _why_ I am here. It is because we are fighting for something. Something important. Something beautiful. I might not be able to see it always, but you…you _can_ see it, Delenn. You always do. You value life above all else and you see the good in everyone and everything. You believe that everyone is capable of becoming their best selves and I want so badly to believe that too. You are what is holding Minbar together right now. Your passion and conviction are infectious, but they have to stay _real_. I was afraid that if you found out what Dralrenn and the others were planning, you might not be able to hold on to both your faith in our caste and the worldview with which you have inspired so many, including myself. I cannot apologize enough. I never meant to try to manipulate you, only to protect you and our world. And I wish I had a fraction of the strength you do."

Delenn drew a breath, sharp but shaky. "I ought to be furious with you," she choked. "You did not give me the chance to decide how to feel about this. That was _not_ for you to decide."

Lennier lowered his eyes. He was shivering harder now, as though his speech had drained him of strength so badly that he could not control his muscles.

"But _Lennier_ ," Delenn whispered, and when she said his name, he raised his eyes with nearly unbearable slowness. "Worst of all, you scared me. You scared me _so_ badly." She sniffled against the small waterfalls of her tears. "It does not get any easier, you know. Seeing you near death, not knowing if I will ever hear your voice again." Oh, but she hated to even _think_ about that.

"I'm sorry." Lennier's voice was barely audible. He seemed to be bracing himself, as though he was expecting her to tell him she no longer wanted anything to do with him. That was the fever talking, Delenn supposed, making him assume the worst. She struggled to get her roiling emotions under control for his sake.

"Oh, Lennier," she murmured after she was able to successfully stifle several sobs. "You have the bravest, most selfless soul I have ever encountered. And I know now that your sacrifice that day was even greater than I originally thought – I cannot imagine it was easy for you to keep this from me." Lennier nodded shakily. "You were willing to give your life for me and for Minbar. We are both lucky to have you. And you _are_ strong, Lennier. I have reassured you of this in the past, and my perception of your strength has only increased since this recent incident. You have been through so much, yet you are still willing to give all you have in the service of others. And if that is not strength of the highest order, I do not know what is."

"Do…do you f…forgive me?" Lennier's eyes and voice both swam with tears.

Delenn softly took both of his hands in her own and pressed them gently but firmly, so that there was no question just how serious she was.

"Of course. Your intentions were pure and your actions noble. I think I can forgive a misstep or two. Besides, you are my friend, and I love you. That alone is enough to warrant forgiveness, and you shall always find it here."

"No matter what?" In Lennier's plaintive whisper, Delenn heard her own voice asking the same question during the Dreaming but a few short months ago, pleading her friend not to leave her. In her hallucinations, she had relived one of the most traumatic experiences of her life, as well as her guilt over the worst thing she had ever done. But through it all, Lennier had been at her side, ever her comforter and protector. And now she would be his.

"No matter what," she murmured, stroking his knuckles as he let out a shuddering sigh and shut his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, seemingly at peace for the shortest of moments before the release of sleep overtook his exhausted body.

Delenn chewed her bottom lip with worry. That was not right – Lennier had been so terribly upset but seconds ago. It was not natural for him to fall asleep this quickly. His condition was worsening, that much was certain. But he was resting now, and that was some small comfort. Delenn could only hope that it would at last be effective, for she did not believe she could endure another round of nearly losing her dearest friend.


	9. And Takes Her In Two Paths

_Delenn was running. She was not sure what or whom she was trying to outrun – she only knew that she was in danger, and that danger was getting closer by the moment. The halls through which she fled were familiar, but she did not have the time to slow down and try to place them. It was not until she had run so far, through corridor after corridor, and it felt like her legs would fall off, that she finally reached the building's main chamber that she realized where she was. She stood on the floor, surrounded by thousands of seats far above her. She was in the Temple of Varenni. She stopped running, knowing that there were only two options. She could continue to run out another door and keep the chase going, or she could stand and fight. It was then that she realized that the only reason she had been running in the first place was to lead whatever was following her to this place. Delenn was not one to run from problems or danger – she would stand and fight, or negotiate her way out. But there would be no negotiating here, this she knew. The fear she felt was nearly animalistic, but though she felt her legs tremble beneath her, she stood her ground, looking around at the room, so open and voluminous that it was almost as though she were outdoors._

" _I will see you soon," laughed an ominous voice, projected by the ancient building's more modern sound system so that it echoed off of the crystal walls. Delenn swallowed but held her ground. That voice sounded familiar, but she was too busy trying to fend off panic to place it._

 _And suddenly, a familiar grating sounded above her head, and as she looked up, a beam of energy shot down to the ground, Delenn standing in its path. The burning it caused was intense - her skin felt as though it were on fire, and she screamed. She tried to move, but her feet seemed to be adhere to that one particular spot on the ground. She fought and fought, but to no avail. And all the while, she could hear that voice over and over, laughing at her and promising to see her soon. She was burning; every molecule that made up her body was on fire. She could not hold out much longer. She cast about for someone,_ anyone _, to help her, but she was all alone – Neroon was not there to take her place this time. The energy was consuming her, this time for good. She was frozen to the spot, her every muscle screaming to move but immobile, fixed. Everything was beginning to go dark, and her heart cried out for those she loved…_

"Delenn."

She shuddered awake at the sound of her own name and a large, gentle hand on her back. She blinked a couple of times to clear the blurriness from her eyes. She was not in the Temple of Varenni – it had been destroyed in a terrorist attack, she remembered with a throb in the pit of her stomach. But she was not alone. The hand on her back belonged to John, who was standing next to her chair with an expression of concern and love. And Lennier was, of course, still in the bed upon which she had been leaning as she dozed and dreamed. He still lay on his side, tucked up beneath his blanket and Delenn's shawl. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and even. Delenn felt a small amount of relief wash over her. At least her ailing friend was resting relatively peacefully.

"John," she whispered hoarsely. Her throat felt dry. "What…what time is it?"

He chuckled softly, a sheepish expression on his face. "Around oh-three-hundred."

"Oh-three…what are you doing here at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep," he mumbled, and even through the dim lighting of the general ward, Delenn could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. It looked like this night was not the first one he had had difficulty sleeping. "I wanted to see if you were awake. I would have let you sleep, but you were whimpering and tossing around like you were having a nightmare. I didn't want you to fall out of the chair, and I figured you wouldn't want to accidentally wake Lennier."

"Thank you." She shivered suddenly, feeling chilled and still experiencing the after effects of her unsettling dream. John motioned for her to move her chair to the back of the room next to the spare one in the corner. She obliged, and the two of them sat in the back of the hospital room, Delenn more in John's lap than on her chair. He encircled her tired body in his arms, and suddenly she felt warm and safer than she had since she had first received the ominous message that had been repeated over and over again in her dream.

"What were you dreaming about?" John said in a hushed whisper to avoid disturbing Lennier's desperately needed respite.

Delenn felt her insides briefly turn to ice at the memory. "I do not recall precisely. I only remember that I was afraid. I believe it is just my worries over Lennier and the Temple and the Council and the situation on Minbar all coming together to torment my subconscious." There was only a touch of a lie in there – the part about not remembering what the dream had been about. And it was a lie for the good of another – if she told John about the threat to her life, it would upset him during an already stressful time. He had enough to worry about with the conflict with Earth without adding this to his long list of problems.

"Sometimes I think that the only time either of us will get to rest properly is when we're dead," muttered Sheridan.

"It is a curse, but one we bear willingly," said Delenn softly. "To serve one's own world, to commit to a cause, to love and support a friend…we have the option to not do any of those things."

John shook his head vehemently. "I can't imagine not doing any of that. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't have something to stand for and people to love."

"Neither could I. I think that is one of the reasons we are so well suited for each other." She pressed closer to him and he leaned over her thin headbone to press his lips lightly to the top of her head.

"One of many, I'd like to think," John said. "But going back to the friendship thing – how's Lennier doing?"

"Not well, I am afraid." Delenn felt John tighten his grasp around her in sympathy. "His fever is higher, and his nausea and pain worse. And he is so awfully weak. I know I ought to have faith that events will play out the way the universe intends for them to, but the longer this goes on, the more worried I get. And unfortunately Lennier picks up on that, and that makes it all the worse for him." She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly guilty.

"It isn't your fault," John reassured her as he ran the tips of his fingers along her hair. "And he cares about you so much that I'm sure it does him worlds of good just to have you there with him. You can't help being worried, because you care about him too."

Delenn sighed. "He blames himself for worrying me, and it upsets him. And the fever just amplifies the entire effect. I suppose the only thing for it is to continue to comfort him. That is what I have come to learn he needs most during times such as these – closeness and reassurance. And I am suppose I am the same way. Perhaps that is why Lennier and I are such good friends." She leaned into John again. "Oh, but I am _so_ terribly worried about him."

"I know," John murmured. "Delenn, you should know…Lennier told me about his genetic condition."

Delenn sat up in surprise, remembering only at the last moment to keep her voice a whisper. "What? But he so desperately did _not_ want you to know. It was nothing against you personally," she emphasized, "just that he does not want anyone to treat him any differently. He is such a modest and selfless soul – he does not wish for any sort of special treatment, even though something as small as a cut can threaten his life."

"He wanted you to be able to confide in me about the true depths of your worries," John explained quietly. "Since he's sick and can't be there for you the way he wants. That's what he told me, anyway."

"Oh, Lennier." Delenn looked over at her friend, who murmured something in his sleep and tried weakly to adjust himself in the bed before settling once more. "Just when I think he has reached the farthest limits of altruism, he surprises me." She inhaled shakily and looked up at John from where she rested half-nestled in his lap. "I could lose him, John. I could lose him from something as insignificant as an upset stomach."

"I think this is a little more than an upset stomach," John observed.

"That is just the thing – his condition continues to worsen. He barely has the strength to sit up anymore. And even though Doctor Franklin is monitoring him closely and giving him the antibodies he needs, I cannot help but be afraid it will not be enough. I do not know if Lennier can survive another bout of sepsis, John. Not so soon after the last one, and especially with the recent injuries to his lungs and the strain of the surgery. He has been through too much – I fear his already very weak body might soon reach the limit of what it can endure." She struggled to keep her voice from trembling.

John tucked an aberrant strand of dark hair behind her ear. "If my time interacting with Minbari – the war, being here, _you_ – has taught me anything about your people, it's that you don't ever give up. It's like you're programmed for survival, but it's more than just physical. The endurance of soul and spirit that your people have is admirable. And Lennier's a great example. Since he told me about what was wrong with him, I have to say I've gained a new respect for him. Not that I didn't respect him before, but now that I've seen what he has to deal with every day…he's strong, you're right about that. I'm glad he's on our side – we need more people like him."

"That is so sweet of you to say," murmured Delenn, the smallest happiness fluttering in her heart at his words. "Not to mention very true. And he respects you too, you know. I know he might seem a bit reserved to you, but he is very protective of me. You and I are close, and though I think he knows that you have no intention of hurting me, he is still vigilant. But he really does have such a sweet and caring disposition."

"Oh, I hold no delusions about his protectiveness over you, believe me," chuckled John. "But, and I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, I've been pleasantly surprised by it. I would have thought he would have fought us more on being…us. Or me, anyway. I'm pretty sure he just wants you to be happy."

"That is precisely _why_ he has been so accepting of our relationship, I believe," murmured Delenn. "He trusts and respects you, and he clings deeply to the friendship between he and I. As do I." She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed, her heart aching for her poor friend and squeezing once more with worry over the thought of losing him.

"If anyone can get through all of this, it's Lennier," reassured John. "Especially when he's got you on his side."

"Thank you." She smiled as she gazed into his eyes, only then remembering how tired he looked. "But you had mentioned being unable to sleep. The conflict with Earth weighs upon your mind, I imagine?"

He sighed and nodded, sounding as exhausted as he appeared in the dimly punctured darkness. "The idea of firing on Earth ships…I just can't get used to it. If they're going to obey Clark's terrible orders, they deserve it. They do. But I still can't help but think of the people on those ships, people I _know_. And I can't keep from asking myself just how right what I'm doing really is."

Delenn shut her eyes for a moment, memories of a war far too recent flooding unwelcomed and uncomfortably through her psyche. "There is nothing that causes more grief than being at war with one's own race. The atrocities make even less sense when they are performed on our own people. I do not know what that says about us – should we not value all life in equal parts? But we do not. It is within the nature of all to protect those most like us, who share our background or beliefs. I do not know if it is right. I can only tell you how badly my heart ached to see my own people at war. I am sorry you must do the same."

John rested his cheek against hers. "Me, too."

They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Delenn's mind cast back to the terrorist attack on the Temple of Varenni and the ominous message on her BabCom, and she was glad the conversation had not taken a turn that would have caused her to need to actively avoid speaking of them. She would _not_ tell John about the message, and she did not wish to discuss the Temple right now – she was too grieved and too frustrated.

After a time, she could see John's eyelids start to flutter closed.

"You should return to your quarters and get some rest," she whispered. "You will need to go on duty soon, and you should try to get at least a couple of hours' sleep. You have a resistance to command, after all."

He nodded wearily. "I don't suppose it would be worth asking you to do the same? You essentially have a _planet_ to command, _after all_."

She smiled softly. "I am afraid not, but your concern is noted."

"I thought so. Take care of yourself, and let Lennier know I'm pulling for him."

She smiled as John pecked her lips with his own before leaving Medlab. Once he was gone, she moved her chair back up next to the bed, where Lennier was mercifully still asleep. She glanced at the clock on the wall and noted the time – oh five-thirty. She laid her arms across the bed and rested her head upon them, ready to attempt once more to get at least a taste of rest.

But it was not to be. Just as she felt herself begin to nod off, Lennier stirred, curling up more tightly around himself. Delenn, assuming he had just adjusted position in his sleep, went to tuck his blanket back about his shoulders. It was then that she realized he was awake – his brown eyes were open, staring straight forward, as he lay motionless.

"Lennier?" she murmured, and at the sound of his name he blinked and raised his eyes to meet hers.

"I thought if I didn't move, it wouldn't hurt so much. It didn't work," he whispered sadly.

"You are in even more pain than before?" He hesitated a moment, as though he were debating whether or not to admit the truth, but then he nodded. Delenn bit her lip reflexively. "I do not like the progression of this illness at all, Lennier. Doctor Franklin should be coming on duty right about now. I am going to fetch him."

"Button on the cart," murmured Lennier.

Delenn raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Lennier swallowed and put visible effort into putting more substance behind his voice. "Doctor Franklin put a doctor call button on the cart next to the bed. He said normally it's to call the nurses but he wants to know immediately if anything changes with me."

Delenn located the button to which Lennier was referring, situated on the cart of medical implements beside the bed, and pressed it. By the time Franklin appeared less than a minute later, the sick Minbari had abandoned his idea of not moving and shifted position again and was now lying with his forehead nearly touching his knees. It would have been almost comical if not for the ever-worsening worry gnawing at the edges of Delenn's stomach.

It took quite a bit of encouraging and gentle manipulation on Franklin's part to get Lennier uncurled. Even though Lennier _wanted_ to cooperate and obey the doctor, he kept automatically trying to guard his abdomen, a sure sign that he was badly hurting. Finally, Delenn took his hand and urged him to squeeze her fingers to distract himself from the pain. Lennier looked hesitant at first, but as soon as Franklin started to palpate, his eyes went wide and he whimpered and pressed Delenn's hand with all of his weakened might.

"Good, that is it," Delenn reassured him.

"Lennier, is the pain present when you are both lying still and when you move?" Franklin inquired.

"Yes," murmured Lennier, and Delenn felt him squeeze her hand again. "But it hurts worse when I move." He gasped quietly as Franklin slid his fingertips up toward his ribcage.

"That was worse?"

Lennier nodded. Franklin looked thoughtful, then straightened up.

"Okay. I'm afraid this isn't going to be pleasant for you, but I'm going to ultrasound your abdomen. I want to see if anything's changed from your previous scans. Delenn's right – the fact that you're still getting worse is concerning, as is the amount of pain you're in. I'm beginning to suspect that something more than food poisoning and immunocompromise is going on here."

"Like what?" Delenn could not help but ask. She felt Lennier press her hand yet again, but this time she suspected it more for her sake than for his.

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know. That's why I want to take a look at what's going on inside there. I'll be right back."

He returned just a couple of minutes later with the portable ultrasound machine. "Okay. It'll be uncomfortable, but in order for me to see what I need to, you have to lay on your back. And I'm going to have to press pretty firmly."

Lennier lowered his eyes in resignation. "Do what you must, Doctor."

"I'll be as gentle as I can, I promise," Franklin reassured him. "Can you roll over onto your back?"

Lennier's attempt to do so appeared feeble, but it seemed to be all he could manage. He caught his breath at the pain when he tried to reposition himself, and when he heard it Franklin positioned his arms beneath Lennier's shoulders and gently eased his torso down onto the bed. Once Lennier was lying on his back, his reaction was immediate – he slung an arm across his abdomen and tried to lean forward, exhibiting the same guarding effect he had shown when he lay laterally. Franklin gave his patient a couple of moments to acclimate to the change in position, then instructed Delenn to hold her friend's torso at enough of an angle that he could reach behind Lennier's back to undo the strings on his hospital gown. Then, making sure the bottom half of Lennier's body was sufficiently blanketed, he removed the gown. His skin now completely exposed, Lennier shivered even harder than he had previously been.

"Strength, Lennier," murmured Delenn in Adronato, taking her friend's hand once more. She tried her hardest not to stare at the shining pink line set off against the pallor of his skin. It ran across the right half of Lennier's chest and disappeared behind his back. She had not seen the scar from his lung lobectomy before. It was much bigger than she had anticipated. She could not imagine how much it must have hurt him while it was healing.

Despite her efforts, he noticed her looking. "It is not as bad as it looks," he murmured. Although she very much doubted that this was the case, Delenn smiled at him. He managed to return the smile for a sweet moment, but it was interrupted when Franklin began to rub the light blue ultrasound gel over Lennier's abdomen. Lennier inhaled sharply and winced.

"I'm sorry it's cold," Franklin said. "But it will help us see what's going on in there. You ready?"

"As ready as I can be," said Lennier in what sounded to Delenn like the smallest voice possible. Franklin pulled the ultrasound cart closer so he could see the screen while manipulating the probe simultaneously, and then pressed the probe to Lennier's abdomen. Lennier gritted his teeth and closed his fingers so tightly around Delenn's that her hand began to go numb. But she did not say anything – if the pressure helped ease Lennier's pain, she would certainly not stop him.

The scan continued for an agonizing thirty minutes. In the interest of wanting to finish as quickly as possible due to Lennier's discomfort, Franklin opted to save the explanation of his findings for the end. He pulled the probe all around Lennier's abdomen, occasionally pausing the screen and saving the view. With every movement of the probe, Lennier would gasp and stifle a whimper, and Delenn would murmur whatever soothing nonsense came into her head ("It is all right, you are doing so well…I know it hurts…just a little while longer and then you can rest…"). Her words seem to help Lennier momentarily, but then Franklin would press upon his tender abdomen anew, and the cycle would begin all over again.

At long last, Franklin hung up the probe, wiped the gel from Lennier's skin carefully with a towel, and helped him back into his gown. Lennier's body remained tense, as though it was taking him a long time to recover from the pain he had just experienced.

"What did you find?" inquired Delenn nervously as the doctor laced the back of the garment.

Franklin turned back to the screen, leaving Delenn to gently lower Lennier back onto the bed and tuck his blanket and her shawl back around his trembling body before helping him turn back onto his side. The doctor sighed, sounding frustrated and worried. Delenn did not like that combination. "In addition to a thickened, inflamed stomach, there's mild pancreatitis going on."

"Is that what is causing his illness?" Delenn furrowed her brow. The doctor had not mentioned this during the scan when Lennier had first been admitted.

Franklin shook his head. "No. While pancreatitis _can_ cause fever, vomiting, and abdominal pain, I didn't see it the first time around. And it's mild enough where it shouldn't be causing this degree of symptoms. I actually think the gastritis is causing the pancreatitis – everything in the abdomen is just angry. But this is likely contributing to the symptoms, particularly the worsening abdominal pain."

"How do we make it better?" Delenn's voice caught before she could police it, and Lennier pressed her hand.

Franklin sighed. "That's just the thing. We're already doing everything we should be doing – pain meds, anti-nausea drugs, antibiotic, fluids. Pancreatitis treatment is basically supportive care – it's all about keeping the patient comfortable. But Lennier just doesn't seem to be responding to either the pain meds or the antiemetics. Are the pain meds helping at all, Lennier?"

"A…a bit," murmured Lennier, eyes cast downward. "But the pain is always present." Delenn's heart broke at his words.

"Okay," replied Franklin with a nod. "I'm gonna try upping your meds _one_ more time. They might make you sleepy – that's okay. If this doesn't work…" He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. "The problem is, I'm not one hundred percent positive that this is all that's happening. Gastritis and consequent pancreatitis _do_ explain all the symptoms, but neither provide a reason for why you keep getting worse rather than better. It could be your weakened immune system just not being able to fight back adequately. But there could be something else going on, too. And with you, Lennier, I'm afraid very little seems to be straightforward."

Lennier tried and failed to triangle his shaky hands across his painful abdomen. "I am sorry I am proving to be such a source of frustration for you, Doctor. I promise that is not my intention."

"It's not your fault," Franklin reassured him. "You've been a great patient throughout everything you've been through and everything you've had to have done. I appreciate it. But Lennier, if you were anyone else, at this point I'd be prepping you for an exploratory laparotomy to make sure nothing else is going on inside you that I haven't been able to pick up."

Delenn swallowed. "Another surgery?"

"I'm just as apprehensive as you," Franklin replied. "Pretty much everything about Lennier at this point is a surgical risk. It's a big abdominal incision – lots of room for contamination – so the chance of secondary infection is big, especially with the genetic immunodeficiency and a generally subpar immune system. And he's not at all well right now, so going under anesthesia is also a concern. Plus the gastrointestinal problems put him at higher risk for aspiration pneumonia, which with his decreased functional lung mass is an even bigger concern than in most patients. It just wouldn't be safe for him. If it comes down to it, we'll have to bite the bullet. But right now I think increasing the dose of pain medication to try and break through this pain wall he's hit, as well as adding in another antibiotic, is the smartest course of action."

"But if something else could be happening inside him, should we not mend it now?" asked Delenn. "Lennier continues to get increasingly more ill with the passage of time. I am very concerned that if this continues for much longer, the situation will become dire."

"The doctor is right, Delenn," murmured Lennier. As shocked as she was that he was disagreeing with her, Delenn could not find it within herself to argue with him. He sounded _so_ weary. "I will be all right; I can manage." He shut his eyes and tried his hardest to suppress a shiver. Delenn laid her hand on his cheek. He was burning up.

"All right," she said softly. "You are both right, of course. I do not want to risk worsening your health even more, Lennier. I just do not want to see you hurting anymore."

"I know," he whispered. "But we will get through this. We will."

Despite everything, Delenn could not help but smile. "Are _you_ reassuring _me_?"

Lennier's chuckle ended in a wince. "It's what friends do."

Delenn had hoped that after the doctor left, Lennier would go back to sleep, particularly with the increased dose of pain medication. But it was not to be – he did not seem to be able to settle. He kept trying to change position, but in his weakness this proved nearly impossible. Delenn helped him however she could, readjusting his pillows and the angle of the bed, but her efforts were mostly futile as it seemed there was no possible position in which Lennier was comfortable. And what was worse, the effects of the fever became more pronounced as the day went on. Lennier went from painful and weak but coherent and talking to lying with his forehead pressed against Delenn's arm and only interacting with her when she spoke his name. And even then, it was only to open his eyes and murmur the most succinct answer he could manage before shutting his eyes again and pressing into her in an attempt relieve his burning skin on the coolness of her arm. Once, about mid-morning, he struggled to sit up suddenly, eyes wide and frantic. Delenn by now recognized all too well that this meant he needed to vomit, and she could feel him trying to double over her arm in pain as she braced his convulsing abdomen to keep him upright as his exhausted body put everything it had into expelling the by this point mythical contents of his stomach. When Lennier had finally finished and Delenn positioned him back on the bed, he shut his eyes tightly and took several deep, measured breaths.

"What is it, Lennier?" she murmured, biting back her worry to the best of her dwindling ability. "Is the pain worse?"

"It…it will pass." His voice cracked, and Delenn did not miss the way his knuckles went white as they grasped the bed sheet. The moment did pass, but not until much longer than she had hoped for. And Lennier only to returned shifting positions in discomfort, with even more desperation than before.

"The increased medicine does not seem to be helping." It was the first thing she said when Franklin entered the room early that afternoon to check on his patient. The doctor paused mid-stride, and sighed, his shoulders drooping.

"He's no better?"

She shook her head. "He has not slept. And the fever and pain both seem to be troubling him more."

"Okay. We'll dose him again and give it a few more hours. If we can get the pain under control, it might help his immune system get the upper hand on this. Pain is a type of stress, and stress compromises the function of the immune system. But because he's been in pain for so long now, his nociceptive receptors – the parts of the nervous system responsible for feeling pain – are so stimulated that even on the higher dose of pain meds it might take awhile for them to come down. I'll also add in another anti-emetic that approaches the process that causes vomiting from a different angle."

"Thank you." Delenn smiled at the doctor, and Lennier murmured a barely audible thanks as well. Delenn hoped that her sick friend did not see the lack of confidence apparent in Franklin's face. It was clear to her that he did not hold much faith in the medication adjustments, but he was trying everything he could to avoid performing what could be an extremely dangerous surgery on Lennier. Delenn wished desperately for a third option, but it was beginning to look more and more like there might not be one.

Franklin's voice interrupted her worried stream of thoughts. "Delenn, at the risk of becoming your personal courier, there was another message for you left in my office just now."

Delenn's head shot up. "Was it anonymous, like the last one?"

Franklin looked a touch taken aback at her sudden alacrity. "No. This was from _Shai Alyt_ Vashaer. He wants you to call him back immediately, and that it's urgent. Now, I've never talked to him before so I don't know him at all, but Delenn…he seemed almost shaken. I'm not going to try to intervene in your affairs, but I just thought you might want to know."

Delenn nodded, feeling simultaneously relieved, concerned, and nervous. If Vashaer wished to speak with her so urgently, did that mean he finally had a lead on the person who was responsible for the bombing of the temple?

"Thank you, Doctor. I am sorry you have needed to relay my messages, and I appreciate you doing so."

"It's no problem. I'm happy to do it if it means you get to stay here with Lennier – it's better for him, definitely. But Delenn, did you ever find out who sent that weird anonymous message?"

Delenn swallowed down the fear that jumped into her throat. "No, I am afraid not. Will someone be able to stay with Lennier while I am gone? I would prefer Marcus accompany me, if possible."

"Of course. I have duties, but I'll get a nurse."

"Thank you." Delenn took Lennier's hand gently in her own and ran her thumb over his knuckles.

"Do you think Vashaer knows who the bomber is?" he asked, eyes wide.

"I do not know. I am terribly sorry, Lennier, but I really must leave you this time. It will not be for long, I promise. Will you be all right?"

She did not miss the flicker of sadness that flitted across his features, but he recovered quickly. "I will be. You must go, Delenn. Make things right for all of us before they get worse. If anyone can do it, it's you."

Delenn smiled softly and rested her palm against his sweltering cheek for a moment. "Oh, _Ker'maier Ard'ka_ , I do not know what I would do if not for your faith in me."

He closed his eyes and pressed gratefully into her hand for a moment before murmuring, "That message sounded really important, Delenn." He sounded regretful.

She sighed shakily. "Of course. The doctor is giving you more medication – try to rest for now. I will see you very soon."

He managed a weak smile and obediently closed his eyes. Delenn was not fooled – he had been uncomfortable enough throughout the day that it was extremely unlikely he would get any sleep at all. But he wanted her to leave him with optimism in her heart, so the least she could do was try. She placed a quick kiss upon his forehead, then left the room as the nurse entered.

Marcus was leaning back as best he could in one of the chairs in the waiting room, arms crossed over his chest. For a moment, Delenn thought he was asleep. But when he straightened immediately as she approached, she realized he had merely been resting with his eyes nearly closed, looking out from beneath lowered lids.

"I am to call the _Shai Alyt_ ," she informed him. "I am returning to my quarters to do so."

"And I, having been just napping here, see no reason not to accompany you," returned Marcus, his face the picture of seriousness. He stood, showing no evidence of stiffness despite the fact that he had been sitting in that chair for hours. He followed her out of Medlab. As soon as they stepped into the hallway and the door swung closed behind them, he asked, "Is this about what I think it is about?"

"I do not know for sure." Despite having considerably shorter legs than Marcus, Delenn was the one setting their pace, brisk and purposeful. "But we will find out soon enough. And thank you, Marcus, for…accompanying me these past couple of days."

"I live to serve you, _Entil-Zha_ ," said Marcus as they continued down the corridor. "How is Lennier?"

"Unwell enough that I am angry with myself for leaving him." Delenn did not even attempt to filter out the bitterness in her own voice.

"Oh," said Marcus quietly. "I see." When Delenn glanced over at him, he looked deeply unsettled, and she was reminded that she was not the only friend of Lennier's who had suffered and worried last year when he had been so ill. And she was not the only one worried for him now.

As they entered Green Sector, she tried to clear her mind in preparation for the call by attempting to meditate as she walked. It did not work as well as it had in the past, and she walked as quickly as she could in her urgency, which did not allow her to achieve the rhythm she wished. As a result, she did not feel as prepared as she had hoped when she entered her quarters, but there was no time for any further delays.

As soon as she stepped into the room, Delenn opened her mouth to order her BabCom unit to call the _Shai Alyt_ , but she paused when she saw the red message light blinking. She supposed it was most likely from Vashaer, but staring at it gave her the strangest feeling. It was an ominous feeling, a foreboding feeling. But with it came an impulse she could not resist. The _Shai Alyt_ would have to wait a few moments more.

Having sensed her door opening, the unit spoke, confirming her apprehension.

" _One message. Sender Anonymous. Text only."_

Delenn and Marcus exchanged glances, and she could tell his sentiments mirrored hers.

"Display." Delenn's voice was but a whisper. A set of Minbari characters appeared on the screen, and she and Marcus both leaned in close. The message was much shorter than the previous one, but Delenn had no doubt it was from the same person A cold and eerie tingle shot through every nerve in Delenn's body as she read.

" _Now you will know how it feels to have your empire crumble around you."_

And suddenly Delenn knew exactly who was responsible for the bombing of the Temple of Varenni – and who was trying to kill her.


	10. Temple Of Fools

"Delenn, we need to call security. He could already be on the station for all we know. Your life could be in danger at this very moment." Marcus hoped fervently that the lesson Delenn had apparently learned the last time her life had been threatened was continuing to stick. Someone _needed_ to know. And that someone was probably security.

To his relief, Delenn did not argue with him. "Yes. Use my computer console to send a message to Mister Allan while I call Vashaer. He needs to know about this."

Marcus jumped to carry out his orders. As he was transcribing a description of who the Chief of Security needed to be on the lookout for, Delenn ordered her BabCom unit to connect with the _Shai Alyt_. The extensively blue-marked Minbari's face appeared on the screen within a second – it was as though he had been sitting by the console awaiting the call.

"Delenn! Thank Valen you called me. I…"

Delenn had no time for even the briefest of pleasantries. "Shakiri is the bomber. He destroyed the Temple of Varenni." Her tone was restrained, but Marcus could see in her smoldering gray eyes a barely contained a simmer of determination and anger.

Vashaer looked taken aback. "Yes, that is what I wanted to speak with you about. How did you know?"

"He threatened me for the second time in a message. It was anonymous, but its contents provided the evidence I needed. The message read, _'Now you will know how it feels to have your empire crumble around you.'_

Vashaer looked even more tired to Marcus than he had during the last call. But this time, his exhaustion was mingled with disgust and worry, the latter of which he was clearly attempting but failing to conceal. "It is no surprise that he considers the new government a mistake. And it is equally unsurprising that he is targeting you specifically. You humiliated him at the Starfire Wheel."

"He humiliated himself," returned Delenn sharply. "The Starfire Wheel proved that he does not have a heart worthy to lead. Surely you must see that, Vashaer."

"I do. And I do not question what the Wheel has shown us. All Warriors strive for death with honor. We die for our people – for all Minbari. But the _Shai Alyt_ lives and dies to serve _their_ people – the Warrior Caste. Shakiri was given this opportunity, and he did not accept it."

"I do not doubt that cowardice such as that is not looked very highly upon within the Warrior Caste," postulated Delenn. "Especially not from your leader."

Vashaer emitted and long and very tired sigh, his shoulders drooping as he exhaled and then neglecting to perk back up again. "The incident at the Starfire Wheel resulted in our entire caste turning their backs on Shakiri. He went from a respected leader to an outcast in the matter of a single day. I know that is not an excuse for what he did, and I am not trying to defend his actions. He does not deserve to be _Shai Alyt_." Marcus detected a momentary flash of bitterness from the otherwise primarily stoic Minbari before the same weariness replaced it, this time with a hint of sadness. "But Delenn, since you have been caught up in all of this, I feel obligated to tell you something about Shakiri you do not know. I am afraid I did not learn of it until a mere few hours before you engaged the Starfire Wheel."

Delenn furrowed her brow but did not speak, allowing Vashaer to continue.

"Shakiri…he is not well, Delenn. Something in his mind is damaged. I believe it to have been a result of this war. He was so infuriated by the Religious Caste challenging the Warrior Caste, and he was obsessive about putting them in their place and showing them that military leadership was what Minbar needed. He kept saying…" he broke off for a moment and shook his head in disgust. "He kept saying that if they did not go back to the temples where they belonged, he would make them regret they ever left them."

Marcus watched Delenn's hands curl into white-knuckled fists at her sides, out of Vashaer's view.

"So he destroyed one of our people's oldest and most significant temples?" Her voice trembled nearly unperceptively. Marcus wondered if Vashaer was able to pick up on it. "I cannot say that makes sense to me."

"It does not make sense to me, either. But Delenn, that is just the thing – to him, it _does_ make sense. Just before the Religious Caste was scheduled to surrender, Neroon came to me. I do not think I had ever seen him look shaken before. He told me he believed Shakiri had truly lost his mind, that he had abandoned the true purpose of the Warrior Caste – to fight and die so that others may live. He planned to slaughter your caste until you surrendered, Delenn. There was to be no preservation of life, not until he got what he wanted."

"Power," murmured Delenn. She was a shade paler that normal.

"Yes," affirmed Vashaer. "To his credit, I think he truly believed it would be better for all Minbari if the Warrior Caste had absolute control – that we could more effectively protect our people if we did not have to equally respect the wishes of the other castes. But the price he was willing to pay…it was far too high to maintain the illusion that he was sane. And everything that has happened since then – his humiliation at the Starfire Wheel, what he perceived as betrayal by Neroon, the formation of the new Gray Council with emphasis on the Worker Caste rather than the Warrior Caste, and particularly the widespread ridicule he has experienced from the public of all castes – has undoubtedly only served to make things all the worse." Vashaer lowered his eyes, his voice quieting. "I know he has done terrible things, and all of this must make him seem to you like he is pure evil, but I can assure you that he was not always this way. In his heart, Shakiri is devoted to our caste and to all Minbari, just as you are. He has been a mentor to me for many years. I've learned from him and respected him, and to see him become this…this hollowed fragment of what he was, of the Shakiri _I_ know…it has not been easy."

They were both quiet for a moment, Vashaer looking grieved, and Delenn, deep in thought. After a time, she spoke, her voice low and quiet.

"I might not be able to relate to precisely what you are going through, Vashaer, but I do know what it is like to lose a mentor. To have more responsibility than you feel ready for thrust upon your shoulders with no prior notice while you are reeling with loss is one of the worst feelings I have known. I am sorry you are having to endure this during what is already a difficult time." She straightened up and squared her shoulders a bit then, her voice increasing slightly in volume and firmness. "But unfortunately it does not mitigate anything that has happened."

Vashaer gave a heavy sigh. "You are correct, of course. Shakiri is the most skilled of all the Warrior Caste, and in his current state he is extremely dangerous."

"And he is coming here," murmured Delenn, more to herself than to the Minbari on the screen. She then paused abruptly, going still, her body rigid. "Vashaer, you said the reason you wanted to talk to me was because you had discovered that Shakiri was the bomber. How did you know?"

Vashaer pressed his lips into a thin line. "Because he sent me a message, as well. Like yours, mine was an anonymous text only message, but it held very telling clues that convinced me of his identity beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"What did it say?"

Vashaer hesitated, looking to Marcus and appearing as though he might protest, but then he pressed a button on the screen on his desk and read from it. " _You are not worthy to hold the title of_ Shai Alyt _. A_ Shai Alyt _pursues the life of a Warrior above all else, values the values of a Warrior without stipulation. A_ Shai Alyt _does not cater to the whims of the Religious fanatics or naïve Workers – he understands that the way of the Warrior is superior to their ideologies. My work at the Temple of Fools was just the beginning – soon, all will see that Minbar truly belongs to the Warriors. And the people's beloved Delenn will be the one to show them."_

Marcus felt himself tense, even though he was not hearing anything he had not already expected. But the reinforcement of it yet again was disturbing at best. He could not help but feel for Vashaer, being dealt these hurtful words by the mentor he had so recently loved and respected.

"So he wants to make an example of me," said Delenn thoughtfully. "It would make sense – I am the one who humiliated him and instituted the new Gray Council, which completely refutes his favored power structure."

Vashaer shook his head. "But that is where it gets confusing. There is a final part to the message which leads me to believe that you might not be his target. Or at least, not at first."

"What?" Delenn all but whispered. "Of what do you speak?"

Vashaer looked down and read aloud once more.

" _She thinks what she has done is what is best for our people. But she is wrong, and she will pay for defaming me. But death is too quick a punishment. As a result of what she has done, I have lost everyone who was once dear to me, either to death or to their abandonment of me as a result of her slander. Now, she will know the same agony._

Marcus's insides felt as though they had frozen solid. "It sounds like he's planning to go after someone close to you," he said quietly.

"I agree with the human," said Vashaer. "But surely that human captain of yours, leader of the rebellion against his own government, has enough protection surrounding him on that space station that Shakiri would not be so stupid as to go after him, even in his compromised mental state."

Delenn stood still, as though her feet had been nailed to the floor and her body was made of wood. Her gray eyes went wide with horror. When she spoke, her whisper was so quiet that Marcus could barely decipher what she was saying.

" _Lennier._ " Delenn, suddenly capable of movement, turned to face Marcus. She was shaking. "Oh Marcus, he's completely defenseless. He's too weak to fight, and there's no one there who can protect him."

Marcus felt the same alarm Delenn was expressing shoot through his every nerve.

"Let's go."

Marcus Cole did not think he had ever run so fast in all his life. He overtook Delenn on his long legs, though when he saw her in the posterior part of his peripheral vision, he was a touch impressed at how the petite Delenn managed to nearly keep up with him, especially in a dress and shoes that did not exactly appear as though they were made for intense exercise. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he also donned such attire, he would be far behind her at this moment.

Or at least, he _would_ have thought all of these things had he had the time. But he had to channel every single bit of his concentration into achieving as much speed as he could. Every time he reached the limits of what his body told him it could take, he pushed all the harder. The burning in his legs, in his lungs – none of it mattered. Lennier was in trouble. They had no proof that Shakiri was even on the station yet, but somehow Marcus just _knew_. And when he glanced over at Delenn and saw the fear in her eyes, he knew that she had the same ominous feeling.

The automatic Medlab door swung open with milliseconds to spare – any slower and they would have crashed into it. They were running so quickly that Marcus doubted they would have had the time to stop. But he did not give it a second thought as he dodged carts and medical implements and rounded the corner that put him in the hallway of the general ward.

He did not see anyone. Not a single person. No nurses milling around. No doctors heading to rooms to check on their patients. No one.

Not until he reached Lennier's room.

Marcus stopped dead at the threshold, feeling bile rise into and scald his throat. Delenn pulled up short behind him, and he heard her sharp intake of breath, hitching with both the exertion of the run and terrible dread.

They had been right.

The nurse who had been looking after Lennier in Delenn and Marcus's absence had apparently fled the room. The Minbari who Marcus recognized from the recording of the events at the Temple of Varenni and the Starfire Wheel as Shakiri was standing over the bed, eye fixed on its occupant. However, when he heard Marcus and Delenn arrive, he looked up, and a malicious smile seeped slowly across his features. As Marcus moved gradually into the room, Delenn following and then overtaking him, he saw the glint of polished metal in the former _Shai Alyt_ 's hand. Shakiri was holding a knife.

Lennier was, as he had been before, a ball of trembling blankets and far too pale skin. He was, Marcus thought, shaking harder now. When Delenn entered, he raised his eyes and locked them with hers. In them, Marcus did not see fear, and he was not surprised by this. Instead, there was a pleading, plaintive and desperate. _If it comes down to your life or mine, Delenn, you must let me go. Please._

"Ah, Delenn." Shakiri's tone was like sweet wine that had been left out to spoil – falsely honeyed and menacing. "I was wondering if you would make it in time."

He did not elaborate one what they were in time _for_ , but Marcus could guess. He suppressed a shudder.

"Shakiri." Delenn was fighting to keep her voice steady and calm. "Your quarrel is with me, and me alone. Please, do not hurt Lennier. He has done you no harm." Lennier's expression begged her not to encourage harm to herself.

"He is your Religious Caste _pet_ ," spat Shakiri. "He does your bidding, obeys your every word. That alone is enough to condemn him. But Neroon also told me how much your little aide means to you, how much you rely on him, and how worried you were when he nearly died to save you from your cowardly fellow Religious Caste. Such a brave little soul…a pity, almost, that he was not born Warrior Caste. A waste, really. But I do look forward to seeing the agony on your face as you watch him bleed out before your eyes. Do not look so aggrieved – your separation will not last long. You will follow him a short time afterward, be assured."

Lennier spoke for the first time, then. Despite the adrenaline rush Marcus had no doubt he was experiencing, he was so weak he could barely project his voice loud enough to be heard. "If you are going to kill me, Shakiri, then please just _do so_. If whatever pain or madness is driving you requires that you take a life, then let it be mine. Do not harm Delenn." He was surprisingly calm and lucid for someone who's life was in immediate danger, and with such a high fever – Marcus suspected that it must be taking every ounce of strength he had to maintain his façade of functionality.

"How touching," sneered Shakiri. "Both willing to die for the other. I would not be so eager to give up my life if I were you, little monk. She dies either way."

"No," whispered Lennier, his voice cracking. "Please…"

Marcus could take no more of this. He reached inside his cloak, but Shakiri's honed Warrior Caste reflexes were faster than even he could have anticipated. He laid the blade of the knife against Lennier's throat. The younger Minbari froze, his gaze never separating from Delenn's.

"If I but see that _Denn'bok_ , human, your friend's life ends _now_." Shakiri's tone went cold. "If Delenn thinks she can humiliate me and turn everyone who ever meant anything to me against me, then she must suffer the consequences! I am _Shai Alyt_ , and I will _not_ be made to endure this!"

"But you are _Shai Alyt_ no longer, and you _are_ enduring it," Marcus corrected, keeping his hand inside his cloak. Shakiri growled, and Delenn's fingernails dug into her own palms, but Marcus persisted. "It is you who are the coward, threatening someone who is ill enough to be bedridden! If you truly believe you are still worthy of the title _Shai Alyt_ , then prove it."

Delenn and Lennier finally stopped looking at each other as both turned to regard Marcus with wide eyes. They both knew where this was going. Lennier paled even more while Delenn whispered, "Marcus, no!"

 _I am sorry, my friends. Remember me fondly and know that I did this because I love you._

Marcus squared his shoulders and looked Shakiri straight in the eyes.

"I invoke _Denn'sha_. Fight me, Shakiri. To the death."

The last time he had uttered those words, the reaction they had received had been very different. Neroon had also had terrible plans, but he had been motivated by righteous anger, not insanity. He had not wanted anyone to get hurt who had not needed to, and Marcus's challenge had brought what had been an almost startling regret to his face. But despite the anticipated differences, Shakiri's reaction still shocked Marcus. The Minbari threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"Foolish, foolish human! You think that I, Shakiri _'ra Kort_ , _Shai Alyt_ of the Warrior Caste, would stoop so low as to entertain your delusions of grandeur? You might have survived _Denn'sha_ with Neroon, who was weak enough to spare your life, but I will not stoop to his level. To participate in _Denn'sha_ is an honor. You are no Minbari, inferior Earther. You do not deserve this honor."

"If you will not accept my challenge, then it is you who has no honor! What they say about you is true – you are a coward!"

That final blow to Shakiri's pride achieved the effect Marcus had intended. The fallen _Shai Alyt_ launched himself, knife bared, at the Ranger at the same moment Marcus withdrew his _Denn'bok_. The fighting pike blocked the thrust of the blade. Shakiri came about for another pass, and Marcus managed to hold him off again. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus saw Delenn rush over to Lennier's bed protect her invalid friend from the battle and the wrath of Shakiri. It was not until several successfully parried attacks later that what Marcus had known the entire time to be inevitable finally happened. Shakiri performed a maneuver Marcus had never seen before, and suddenly Marcus was the one with the knife at his throat, his body pinned against the wall.

 _Damn._ He had been hoping it would have taken longer than this. Neroon had been a startlingly good fighter, but Marcus had to admit that Shakiri was all the better. He had hoped to give someone – a doctor or nurse, probably – time to notice that something was amiss and call security. But the fight had been embarrassingly short, and now he was likely to take Lennier's place as the first casualty of Shakiri's madness. Although, to be fair, he had invited this one.

"Humans," the disillusioned Minbari sneered. "We should have wiped you out when we had the chance."

"Shakiri, stop." Delenn had progressed from asking to ordering now, but to no avail. Shakiri pressed the knife into Marcus's neck, the sharp blade drawing the thinnest stream of red blood. But then something happened that Marcus had not expected, in the form of Lennier crying out in pain, louder and more expressive than Marcus had ever seen his modest friend about any kind of discomfort.

" _Oh!_ Oh, my stomach…"

Shakiri, his every muscle spring-loaded with tension, jumped at the sudden noise. It was a distraction enough to cause him to take the knife away from Marcus's throat for a moment, giving Marcus an opportunity to recover enough to dive into a corner, leading his opponent as far away from Lennier and Delenn as possible.

"Lennier!" Delenn was trying to suppress becoming frantic. "What is it?"

"H…hurts," whimpered Lennier. "It hurts _so_ much…" He cried out again, this time thrashing around in pain, turning his body and writhing so much that he struck the medical equipment cart next to the bed before curling up in pain, trembling.

"Oh, Lennier…" Delenn seemed to have almost forgotten of the presence of someone who was actively trying to murder them all, so focused was she on her friend. "Just hold on, my dear, it will be all right…"

"Really, Delenn, are you certain you do not want me to just put him out of his misery? I do believe I'd be doing all of us a service." Shakiri sounded mildly disgusted.

In the same moment that Delenn whirled to face Shakiri, her whole body shaking with rage and her eyes burning with a gray fire intense enough to boil the entire space station, something occurred to Marcus. The past couple of days, Lennier had been so weak that he had not even been able to sit up on his own – Marcus and Delenn had needed to physically hold him upright so he would not choke on his own vomit. For him to turn his body over with such force as he just had must have cost him dearly. Even if his pain had suddenly worsened, it wasn't like Lennier to waste his strength in a time of crisis. Unless…

 _Oh, that's clever. Oh Lennier, you poor chap; you might have just saved our lives. You've done what you can – now I need to continue my distraction._

Shakiri had started toward Delenn and Lennier again. He was but two feet away when Marcus leapt at him from behind. Though Marcus was smaller than the Minbari, his weight combined with the force with which he jumped were enough to pull Shakiri backward. They both fell, with Marcus letting go and rolling away just in time to avoid being impaled on Shakiri's sharply pointed headbone. The Warrior struck the ground directly with his back. He lay there for several seconds, gasping, the breath knocked out of him. Those few moments of compromise gave Marcus enough time to scramble to his feet, _Denn'bok_ in hand, and snatch Shakiri's knife from where it had clattered to the floor at his side. By the time Shakiri could breathe again, Marcus had the blood-lined blade pressed against his Adam's Apple.

" _Now_ what do you think of lowly little humans, eh?"

"That their security teams can take it from here." Whatever Shakiri might have responded with was interrupted by the arrival of Zack Allan and several of his deputies. All of them had fully charged PPGs trained on Shakiri. Stephen Franklin stood behind them, his expression grave as he watched the unfolding scene.

"Sir, if you'd like to come with us?" Zack Allan's tone implied that this was not actually a question.

Shakiri growled and struggled as half a dozen security officers wrestled him into handcuffs, but the job got done. Marcus went to sit on the edge of the flattened part of Lennier's bed. His legs felt as though they could not quite keep him upright – the adrenaline of battle was wearing off. Delenn was holding Lennier's hand and stroking his knuckles, caught between providing ministrations to her friend and observing the ongoing arrest of Shakiri, who was now having his rights read to him by a rather smug Zack Allan. Lennier wearily looked at Marcus as he sat down. He was still shaking quite hard, and Marcus began to wonder if maybe his whole performance had not been entirely an act, after all.

"That was clever," he told Lennier. "Pretending to accidentally hit the cart but actually making sure you pressed the 'doctor call' button on the way down. From the hallway, Stephen saw the trouble and called security. You saved us all – well done."

One side of Lennier's mouth twitched upward, but Marcus could tell that he was in no condition to bask in compliments.

"Oh Lennier, that was so well done! I am so proud of your very quick and level-headed thinking," praised Delenn. "But then, your stomach – it has not actually gotten so much worse?" She sounded tentatively hopeful.

"Not…not _so_ much worse," murmured Lennier, and Marcus saw his fingers close around Delenn's hand. His voice trembled right along with his body. It was not a complete refutation, which indicated to Marcus that things were in fact considerably worse. Marcus supposed that if _he_ felt exhausted after that encounter as the adrenaline dissipated through his body, the incredibly weak Lennier must be feeling all the worse now that the acute moment of stress had passed. His already depleted strength must be down to almost nothing.

Delenn, so attuned to Lennier's condition, picked up on the cue as well, and she bit her bottom lip with worry and lovingly cupped her hand to Lennier's face for a moment. But despite her fretting over Lennier and her desire to care for him, Marcus could see that she was conflicted. She glanced up at Shakiri, a mingling of disgust and odd concern on her face. Zack and the security team seemed nearly ready to take Shakiri to either a holding cell or an interrogation room, but Delenn held up a hand, telling them to wait.

"I am coming with you, Mister Allan." Her voice was quiet, but it was not a tone Marcus would have argued with. Zack, however, tried.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that. He just tried to commit murder on this station – he's my responsibility and I can't have him hurting you."

 _He's brave. Or maybe stupid,_ thought Marcus in mild amusement.

Delenn's tone was quite suddenly sharp enough to make a surgical incision. "He is suspected of committing terrorist acts on my world. As Minbari ambassador to this station, I have the right to speak to any Minbari citizen being held by station security."

"But jurisdiction…" Zack started.

 _Definitely stupid,_ thought Marcus.

"You _will_ allow me to come with you and speak to Shakiri privately. When I am finished, you may do with him what you will in accordance with your protocols. That _is_ what will happen, if you wish to avoid an interplanetary incident. Do I make myself clear, Mister Allan?"

The stubborn security chief had been broken; he lowered his eyes.

"Yes, Ambassador. Will you be coming now?"

"Just a moment." Delenn turned back to Lennier, whose eyes had gone wide in horror.

"Delenn, he'll hurt you, it's not safe!" Ashen hands clutched at Delenn's smooth porcelain-like ones. "Please don't go with him, please…"

"It will be fine, Lennier. I have to talk to him about the temple. This could be my only chance to get the answers we need." Delenn stroked his knuckles with her thumbs, but the action did not seem to have any effect. Lennier whimpered, his eyes swimming with tears.

"You will be all right, my dear," Delenn soothed. She laid a comforting hand on his forehead and visibly tried to stifle a wince as she felt the intensity of the fever radiating off of him. "I will be back before you know it. And Marcus will stay with you until then."

"Delenn, I _really_ think I ought to go with you…" Marcus cautioned, but Delenn cut him off, clearly very much finished with people contradicting her.

"Marcus, I need you to stay with Lennier just now, until I return. Please do this for me." She was stern, but in her voice there was also a sense of someone asking a friend for a much-needed favor.

Marcus hesitated, every fiber of his being screaming not to let her go alone. But who was he to argue with his _Entil'Zha_?

"All right," he murmured. "But please be careful."

"Thank you," she murmured before turning back to Lennier, whose thin shoulders were shuddering with sobs even as he hunched over in the bed, one arm pressed tenderly against his abdomen to try to contain the pain.

"P…please don't go, Delenn." Marcus marveled at the fact that Delenn was able to resist Lennier's plaintive pleading, although it appeared that it was no easy feat. There was turmoil in those gray eyes.

"Be strong, my sweet Lennier," Delenn murmured before getting to her feet. She walked toward the doorway, exchanging a full, ice-cold look with Shakiri as she passed him. And then the entire entourage was gone, Delenn with her head held high at the front and Shakiri in the middle, his calves being prodded by the toes of security officers when he refused to walk quickly enough.

Lennier stared after Delenn, sobbing unabashedly. Marcus glanced up at the vitals monitor above the bed. Lennier's body temperature was nearly one hundred four degrees – no wonder he was so emotional.

"Hey, Lennier," Marcus started gently. At the sound of his voice, Lennier seemed to suddenly remember that he was there, and he turned around, eyes frantic and desperate.

"Marcus, you have to go after her, you can't just let her go alone, he's going to kill her, Marcus, she'll…" He stopped, cried out, and doubled over in pain, unable to stop the sobs that only contributed to his agony. Marcus laid a hand on his arm until the pain had subsided enough for him to straighten out again.

"Delenn can take care of herself," Marcus reassured him. "If anyone can handle this, it's her. I'm sure she'll be completely fine."

"But… _oh_." Lennier bit back the rising tide of pain. "But I don't want her to get hurt, Marcus, we can't let her get hurt…"

And so commenced what seemed like hours of the same cycle over and over again – Lennier, far too painful and upset to sleep, continued to panic and worry over Delenn while Marcus did his best to comfort him, from verbally reassuring him to rubbing small, slow circles into his back. Nothing seemed to help – the fever was too high and the danger too near for Lennier to ever believe Marcus. But Marcus knew he had to try, both for Lennier's sake and because Delenn had asked him to.

 _But,_ he thought as Lennier let out yet another choking sob and curled in on himself, _of course it cannot be easy._


	11. God Knows I've Failed

There was a table in the interrogation room, and two chairs. One of them was empty – Delenn could not bring herself to sit down. She was restless, and she needed to move. The other one, directly across the cold steel table, held Shakiri. One hand was handcuffed to the leg of the chair – that had been Mister Allan's stipulation for allowing Delenn in the room alone with the prisoner. She could not say she was not glad of it.

 _The prisoner._ What had happened, for the respected leader of a Minbari Caste to fall so far? Delenn tried not to shudder as she realized that she had a fairly good idea of what had happened, and that she had been a major player in those events. She told herself that it was not her fault – Shakiri was not well, and Delenn had not caused that. But try as she might, she could not banish from the back of her mind the notion that she had contributed to the devolution of the man who sat before her.

Shakiri's demeanor had changed even in the short time between him threatening the lives of Delenn and her friends in Medlab to now. He had gone from cocky and vicious to radiating a cold, seething kind of anger. He sat without moving, his head bowed, but Delenn could feel it. Gone were the mockery and the taunting – in their place was now an icy hatred. It cut through the room like a sharp knife piercing flesh, and it suddenly struck Delenn how easily she could have become the person sitting before her. They were both leaders of their Castes. They led and spoke for so many, provided a role model for so many. The sometimes nearly crushing weight of decisions affecting a billion people and sometimes more rested uncomfortably upon their shoulders. Shakiri had crumbled under the weight like a stone that had seen too many years of weather and erosion. But Delenn had remained strong – or at least that was what she told herself. But she knew deep within the darkest corner of her heart that this was not necessarily the truth. Once, fourteen years ago, there had been a moment in which _she_ had crumbled. And her failure had caused unimaginable destruction and suffering.

Were they really any different?

She needed to return to the task at hand, to stop thinking about this. 

"Why did you do it?" Her tone was harsh, biting.

"You are going to have to be more specific than that." There was no jeer in Shakiri's voice this time.

"Bomb the Temple of Varenni. I know it was you."

"I did not exactly make an effort to conceal that fact, Delenn. Your detective skills are not necessarily as keen as you fancy them."

"Answer the question!" Delenn brought her palm down so hard on the metal table that the room rang with the reverberation, which sent waves of pain up her arm. Shakiri did not so much as jump.

"Really, Delenn, it is no great leap," he all but spat. "I had _everything_ – power, influence, a future. But there, in that place, _you_ took it all away from me. The fact that that temple meant something to all of you pious Religious Caste jut made my revenge all the sweeter."

"But your revenge is not sweet, is it Shakiri? If bombing the temple had been enough, you would never have come here. You thought the destruction of one of our people's most beloved and significant religious relics would make you feel better. But it did not change anything for you, did it?"

Shakiri narrowed his eyes menacingly. "After all you have done, all the ways in which you have hurt me, you deign to reiterate my failures all the more? Everyone I have ever loved has turned their backs on me, Delenn. _Everyone!_ And I have one person to blame. You did this."

"You brought this upon yourself, Shakiri. I did what was best for our people, for Minbar."

"You did what you _thought_ was best! Did it ever once occur to you that I was only doing the same?"

Delenn hesitated. Suddenly, the man before her looked different. Not evil, but broken. Completely and utterly broken. His eyes were wild and desperate, as though trying to find something, _anything_ on which to cling. He was one of the lost souls all Religious Caste were taught to pray for from the time they were children. Those who searched for enlightenment, but had become lost somewhere along the way.

"I believe you," she murmured after a several moments. Shakiri uttered a snort of derision. "I do," she insisted calmly.

"It does not matter." Shakiri curled his hand into a fist, then uncurled it, then repeated the process. "What is done cannot be undone. I am ruined – there is no hope for me. It pains me greatly that I have lived to see my world under the control of zealots who have uprooted its entire structure – the very values which have kept it thriving for so long! I cannot watch it any longer." The last sentence came out as a hiss.

"What has been set in motion cannot be easily undone, Shakiri," Delenn explained calmly. "And our world was not thriving. It was suffering, tearing itself apart from the inside out. A change was needed…"

"A change _was_ needed, but not the one you implemented!" Shakiri's voice rose many decibels suddenly. "Minbar needs to be under Warrior rule! Only then will our people have the safety and protection they need."

"Shakiri," said Delenn softly, a worried inkling pricking at the back of her mind. "You just expressed your disagreement with changing the values of old, but now you say an entirely new system is needed. Your words contradict each other."

"What? You are mistaken," he barked defensively. "Stop trying to confuse me! That is what you do, Delenn – confuse and manipulate people so thoroughly that they feel as though they have no choice but to follow you! I could have _led_ them, Delenn! I could have led them all to greatness…"

"You would have led them into madness, Shakiri." Delenn's voice was gentle – she was not trying to goad him. She was simply stating what she knew to be factual. "I know you are hurting, and I know that I was part of the reason for that. I believe all of my actions at the Temple of Varenni and the Starfire Wheel were necessary, but I am sorry that you came to such suffering as a result of it. I know they say of me that I value life above all else – your life now is no way to live, Shakiri. And I truly am sorry." And she was.

"You are right," murmured Shakiri. "It is no way to live."

An odd expression passed over his face. It was…peaceful. At first Delenn was puzzled. But then she caught a glimpse of bright metal in his hand glinting off of the too-bright overhead lights, and a terrible realization hit her so hard that it nearly sent her reeling.

"Shakiri." His name came out a strangled whisper, her gaze never leaving his hand.

"What? Have you so little faith in the former leader of the Warrior Caste that you did not think it possible he could hide another knife where your little human security officers could not find it? Please stop insulting me, Delenn. My patience for it is wearing dangerously thin."

"Shakiri, do not do this. I know I am the last person you want to listen to, but hear me. You have a sickness of the mind, but there are healers for that. I can help you get the assistance you need, and then you can apologize to your caste. All is not necessarily lost. There may still be people out there for you, loved ones who would support you. Believe it or not, I can empathize with what you are experiencing. When I underwent my change in the Chrysalis Device, I too was shunned by my caste and by my people. It is a terrible feeling, being alone. But I endured it and came out all the stronger. And so can you, Shakiri, if you but give yourself the chance."

Shakiri laughed incredulously. It was a cold laugh, a hollow laugh. "What a striking change. One glimpse of the knife and suddenly you wish to help me. And why? Because you feel _guilty_. You do not care about me. It would be so much easier for you if I were dead. And why wouldn't you want me dead, after all? I bombed your Temple, and I threatened your life and those of your Ranger and your precious little aide. But you don't want my blood on your hands. You do not want the guilt, and you do not want the death. You, who values life. But I, _I_ see the value in death. So you see, Delenn, we are _nothing_ alike."

It all happened so quickly that Delenn did not even have time to scream at him to stop. He had killed thousands of humans during their war – the act was muscle memory for him. He knew precisely the angle and surprising depth at which to insert the knife into his carotid artery. Delenn instinctively leapt backward as bright crimson blood sprayed with an alarming trajectory across the room, spattering the walls until they looked like an unattended child had gotten hold of a paintbrush. A scream gurgled up from the back of her throat, but she choked on it, her heart nearly beating out of her chest as she tried to process what had just happened. She turned around and pounded on the thick metal door as hard as she could with both fists. When it opened, she stumbled out and leaned heavily on the wall as Mister Allan and several of his security team rushed past her into the cell. She did not hear them call for a medical team – it was clear there was no need.

 _I tried,_ she thought as hot tears leaked from her eyes while she tried and failed to stop the full-body shakes that overwhelmed her. _If the guilt I feel right now is any indication, what he said about me was true. But I_ tried _._

Delenn felt hollow as she walked down the corridor, like someone had cut into her and scooped out her insides with a giant spoon. People passed her in the hallway, maybe even people she recognized, but she scarcely realized they were even there. She was hardly aware of anything.

It was only when she stepped through the door to Medlab that the numbness began to melt away, but in its place it left a sobering self-loathing. However, when she reached Lennier's room and looked through the window, the self-loathing turned to a gut-gnawing worry at the sight of Lennier sobbing inconsolably as Marcus rubbed his back. Delenn rushed to her friend's bedside. Marcus seemed relieved beyond measure to see her; Lennier looked up at her with a tear-streaked face and whimpered her name as though he could not quite believe she was really there.

"D…Delenn?"

"Yes, my dear, I am right here." She took the seat Marcus vacated for her – the Ranger went to stand in the corner, allowing the two to have their reunion. Delenn stroked Lennier's cheek with the backs of her fingers, realizing with a wave of nausea that his fever was higher than ever.

"You…you're all right? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?" Lennier was positively frantic. Delenn grasped both of his hands. She needed to fight the urge to take him into her arms, knowing that jostling him would likely cause him terrible pain. But he desperately needed reassurance, and his delirium was making it so hard for her comfort to get through to him.

"I am just fine, Lennier," she murmured, the calmness of her voice sounding like a mockery of the turmoil in her heart. And her words were far from true, but honesty was not what Lennier needed right now. "Shakiri will not harm any of us any more. You can be assured of that." She caught Marcus's eye from across the room – he looked alarmed, but he stayed quiet.

"I was so worried," sobbed Lennier. "He wanted to kill you, Delenn, and I was _so_ worried…"

"I know," she soothed. "And I am so very sorry that I left you to worry." She could not help but wonder if Shakiri would still be alive if she had stayed. At the very least, poor Lennier would not be so upset.

She realized that she should have policed her words more thoroughly when Lennier's eyes widened in horror. "No, Delenn, it is I who must apologize! I did not intend for you to feel badly about leaving me…"

Delenn hushed him softly, running her fingers along the line where his headbone met his skin. "It is all right, Lennier. There is nothing to forgive, and I am here now. And I promise I will stay with you."

Lennier sniffled. "You'll be here?"

She nodded. "Right here."

"Th…thank you," he hiccupped. He winced and squeezed Delenn's hand to try to distract himself from the pain. Delenn's heart ached to see him in such unmanageable agony. She wished fervently that she could somehow take away her friend's suffering, but all she could do was try to soothe him.

"Try to rest now," she murmured. "I will be here every moment, I promise it. Everything will seem brighter when you wake, _Ker'maier Ard'ka_."

Lennier settled a bit beneath her touch, and Delenn felt reassured at this action. But just when he was beginning to get at least slightly comfortable, he whimpered and curled in on himself with pain. Delenn soothed him, but the fever seemed to have other ideas.

"Please don't leave me, Delenn," Lennier sobbed.

"I will not leave you," she comforted. There was no use in reminding him of this nearly identical conversation from but a few minutes ago – the fever was likely affecting his mind too much for him to remember. Lennier calmed after a bit of coaxing, and settled down as though to sleep again. But every time he calmed enough to rest his utterly spent body, he would either become physically painful or agitated from the fever again, and Delenn needed to comfort him.

Finally, several hours later, Lennier finally slipped into sleep. Before tucking him in, Delenn glanced up at the vitals monitor. After seeing its temperature reading, she chose to take Lennier's blanket off and leave on only her precious shawl. Even in sleep, her friend looked as though he was struggled to find respite – his breathing was rapid and shallow, he whimpered occasionally, and his skin was such an ashen gray that on first glance, it was unclear whether or not he yet lived. Delenn bit back a sob of her own at the sight of him.

"He's dead, isn't he? Shakiri." From the corner, Marcus whispered to avoid waking their friend. "That's what you meant when you said he can never hurt any of us again."

Delenn pulled her knees up to her chin, making herself as small as possible.

"Yes," she whispered. The scene, which she had managed to keep confined to the back of her mind for the past several hours as she tended to Lennier, barged to the forefront of her consciousness now. She shuddered as she recalled it – the utter hopelessness and hatred in Shakiri's eyes haunted her, and the guilt clung to her like a blood-sucking parasite. "He…he had another knife. He hid it from security. I tried to stop him, really I did. But…he wasn't well, Marcus. He was too far gone to save. Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself. But I tried. I did try. I promise I did."

Marcus silently came to kneel at her side. His hand found her arm and rested there, blue eyes full of concern boring into her soul. Delenn was glad that he understood – even though but a mere few hours ago, Shakiri had been threatening both their lives and that of their friend, but that did not mean they did not grieve his death. Delenn derived just the smallest bit of comfort from knowing that her deep regard and respect for life above all else had spilled over to him, the jaded and damaged fighter.

She unfolded her body, putting her feet back on the floor, and drew a shaky breath.

"It is over now, anyway – the danger has passed. You should get some rest – you very much deserve it. Thank you for staying with me these past couple of days – you have honored me with your service, Marcus, and you honor all the Rangers with your devotion."

Marcus triangled his hands in the Religious Caste formation and bowed, a symbol of profound respect. " _Enti'Zha_ , _you_ honor _me_ with your praise." He lowered his hands down by his side and became her friend, rather than her soldier, once again. "I would implore you rest as well, Delenn, but I think we both know that you truly are needed here tonight."

Delenn took Lennier's hand and ran her thumb lightly over his knuckles, as she did so often when he was ill or needed comfort. But now the motion was as much to comfort her as him – Delenn knew that he really was very, _very_ sick, and that frightened her. But she would be there for him now, no matter what happened.

"And here I will stay," she whispered.


	12. But All I Have Is All That Is Gone

Delenn finally descended into a light plane of sleep after a long time of watching over her friend. She was unsure how long she had been sleeping – likely no more than about four hours – when she awoke to Lennier stirring. He whimpered, clearly uncomfortable, and she stroked his cheek and murmured to him to try to ease him into full consciousness.

"Lennier, it is all right. You are safe, my dear."

Lennier opened his eyes and was able to focus on her after a couple of seconds. Delenn smiled at him.

"Good morning." For it was morning, though not by much.

Lennier managed the smallest of smiles in return. "Good morning." His voice was barely a whisper.

"How are you feeling?" Delenn asked, afraid to know the answer but still hoping against hope for the best. It was not to be, unfortunately.

"Sick," whispered Lennier. "Really, really sick." He shut his eyes and swallowed hard, wincing.

Delenn's heart sank to her shoes "Oh my dear, I wish I knew how to help," she murmured past the lump in her throat. She made to take his hand, but before she could Lennier went suddenly sheet-white and struggled weakly to sit up, panic in his eyes. Delenn dove for the bowl on the cart next to the bed and then held Lennier upright as he retched for everything he was worth. He barely produced anything – at this point, Delenn was surprised his body could find anything at all to bring up. Nevertheless, Lennier's abdominal muscles contracted fiercely, harder than they had during any of his previous bouts, leaving him helplessly doubled over as Delenn kept him from toppling completely. She started to murmur soothingly to him, trying desperately to comfort him _somehow_ in the midst of this acute exacerbation of his ongoing torture, when mid-retch Lennier gasped, his eyes going wide and his arm tightening around his abdomen.

And then he made a noise Delenn had heard before, but never from him. She had heard it on the _Valen'tha_ when Dukhat and so many others had found their ends so unexpectedly; she had heard it in the isolation vault, time after time as another Markab finally escaped from the excruciating and terrifying clutches of their illness; and she had felt her heart break with each time she had heard it so recently on Minbar, so many times after each bomb fell, as innocent Minbari lost their lives to a meaningless quarrel. It was the sound of the kind of pain one feels when they are on the brink of death – unendurable pain, pain unlike anything one has ever felt before. Hearing _that_ – a cross between a scream and a strangled whimper - arise from her dear friend set her heart to doing somersaults inside her chest, leaving her breathless with fear. The cry ceased abruptly, as though Lennier was in such terrible agony that he could not sustain it, but his mouth remained open in a silent scream until a series of choked sobs took over. Delenn shoved the bowl aside and lowered Lennier as gently as she could back down onto the bed, but as she did so he yelped and nearly hyperventilated. It took several struggling breaths for him to recover enough to start to take in enough oxygen again.

"What is it, Lennier? Is the pain worse?" Delenn's hand hovered over Lennier – she wanted desperately to touch him comfortingly. Physical contact, particularly from her, was always such a comfort to Lennier in times of need. But after the reaction her touch had just elicited, she was afraid to make any contact with him at all.

Lennier nodded, his hand curling into a fist, bunching his bed sheets up in it. "So much worse," he managed to whisper before crying out again, his body writhing. Delenn was reminded of his ruse the previous day, when Shakiri had been threatening them, but this was different. There was no question that this was completely real.

A brief moment of lucidity amidst her panic brought Delenn the realization that she needed to call Doctor Franklin. The cart that bore the "doctor call" button was on the other side of the bed, and she made to get to her feet so she could walk over to it. But when she tried to stand, Lennier clutched at her dress with surprising strength.

"Delenn, don't go!" he sobbed, his eyes filling with tears. "I can't…can't bear it if you…if you leave me…please… _oh_ it _hurts_!"

"I am just going press the button." Delenn deferred reassuring him until after she could call the doctor – it was becoming clear that Lennier needed medical attention immediately. Lennier had let go of her dress in favor of pressing his arm to his abdomen with this most recent wave of pain, so Delenn was able to take the couple of steps she needed to reach the cart. She pressed the emergency button and returned to her chair, where she cupped Lennier's cheek in her palm. His eyes were tightly shut and his breathing shallow and rapid – it took him several seconds to look up at her. But when he did, she saw in those eyes such agony – agony that did not belong there - that she nearly wept. Lennier, - her sweet, kind, loving, intelligent, loyal, dear Lennier - should not have ever known this kind of pain. What he was clearly experiencing was something Delenn would never wish on her enemies. But it was happening to her dearest friend, and neither of them could do anything to stop it. They were helpless.

"I am here, Lennier." It was all she could offer him. It seemed pitiful, useless. But what could she do in the face of such all-consuming torment?

Lennier held her gaze desperately, as though it were the only thing tethering him to this universe. As though if he looked away, he would fall away from her forever and ever. As she looked back, Delenn held his hand, feeling his pulse, racing but weak, flutter against her skin.

Mercifully, it was only a few seconds before Franklin came hurrying into the room. Delenn moved her chair closer to the head of the bed to give him room to access his patient, making sure she was still within Lennier's line of sight.

"What's wrong?" Franklin inquired succinctly the moment he stepped over the threshold.

"He vomited and then was suddenly in terrible pain. He's much, much worse."

As though on cue, Lennier emitted a whimpering gasp and clutched at his abdomen, obviously in the midst of another wave of agony. Franklin started to reach for him, but Lennier drew away from him as best he could in his weakness.

"Please, Doctor," he begged. "I know you want to palpate my abdomen, but it hurts _so_ much, please…"

"It's all right, I won't touch it," Franklin reassured him. "But I need to get a look at the rest of you."

Lennier trembled uncontrollably as Franklin took his wrist to feel his pulse and read the vitals monitor.

"Damn," Delenn heard him mutter under his breath, and she felt nauseous with awful anticipation. Then, louder, "your blood pressure's dropping, and your heart rate and respiratory rate are increasing. You're on the verge of shock, and you're _really_ pale."

"Minbari do not have a flush response. Pallor is a sign of general illness," Delenn reminded him gently.

"I know, but not pallor like this. Something's changed, and we have to find out what it is."

"Isn't there _something_ you can give him for the pain?" Delenn pleaded, looking back at Lennier, who had shut his eyes again. It appeared as though he was focusing all his energy on drawing each new breath, though it was not immediately obvious whether this was because he was actually having difficulty breathing or because he was desperately trying to distract himself from the pain.

Franklin shook his head, looking grave. "Not until we figure out what's going on. Certain drugs harm certain body systems, and until we know why he's in this crisis, we could inadvertently make things worse with anything we give him. Besides, if we couldn't cut through the pain with analgesics before, I really doubt we're going to be able to now." He turned to his patient. "Okay, Lennier, we're going to put you in the scanner so we can see what's going on in there. Let's go."

Lennier's eyes shot open. "Delenn." He tried instinctively to reach for her with both hands, but the moment he moved the one that had been covering his abdomen, he immediately snapped it back into place with a soft cry. Delenn took his one outstretched hand and cast a glance at Franklin, who nodded.

"It will be all right, Lennier. I will be right here with you," she soothed. He sniffled and nodded, sobs turning into cries of pain as his shudders further jarred his abdomen. Delenn hurried to keep up as Franklin wheeled the bed through Medlab and into the imaging room. Delenn could see the fear that jumped to Lennier's countenance the second he saw the scanner.

"Delenn, I can't. Please don't make me go in there, I can't…"

"Yes you can," she said gently as Franklin went about preparing the machine. "You have been in this machine twice before and nothing bad happened as a result. The fever is just telling you to be nervous – that is all."

In his delirium, Lennier remained unconvinced. "But…but it's too small in there, and I don't want to lie flat, and I don't want to lie on my back…I don't…please don't make me…"

Franklin came back over and together he and Delenn lifted Lennier and set him inside the scanner, Delenn apologizing to Lennier repeatedly as they did so. Even though they were as gentle as they could be, Lennier barely stifled a scream when his body touched the cold metal table. He looked around himself frantically, frightened trembles adding to the fever shakes. He tried weakly to roll over onto his side, but found himself unable to and settled for cries of pain that made Delenn's heart break.

"Delenn, you're going to have to step out of the room with me for just a second while we take the scan," said Franklin softly.

Lennier sobbed. "Don't leave me, please, Delenn."

"You will be all right," Delenn promised, grasping both of his hands, trying her hardest not to let his panic faze her. "You are going to be so very brave and strong, and all will be well. I will be back before you even realize I am gone. Please Lennier, I know you have endured so much, and you do not deserve any of it and it isn't fair to ask you to bear anything more. But I _must_ ask this of you, and I am sorry. Lennier, please do this. For me."

Soaking wet brown eyes held hers for the longest second she had ever known. And then Lennier drew a shuddering breath, shut his eyes, and lay still.

"Strength, my dear," whispered Delenn. Then she hurried out of the room to join Franklin in the antechamber. She dried the tears that had begun to pool in her eyes on her sleeve as he pressed a button on the antechamber's console. Through the window, Delenn saw the machine light up with a deafening whirr, and Lennier was pulled into the narrow tube. The scan itself lasted only seconds, but to Delenn those few seconds felt like one million lifetimes. She kept her eyes fixed on what little she could still see of the tip of Lennier's headbone until at long last Franklin nodded to her. She took off at a run and was at Lennier's side by the time the machine had finished moving him out of its claustrophobic depths.

"Oh Lennier, you did _so_ well. I am so proud of you." She took his hand in both of her own and pressed it. For a moment, she could see in his eyes that he wanted to smile at her. But just then another wave of pain washed over him and he cried out, trying to double over but failing in his all-consuming weakness.

"Let us get you on your side," murmured Delenn. Taking the greatest of care to avoid touching anywhere near Lennier's abdomen, she turned him over – first his legs, then his upper torso. Lennier gasped with pain when she moved him, but he did not cry out. As soon as he was repositioned, he immediately curled in on himself and lay there trembling.

"I know the bench is hard and that it probably makes the pain even worse, but Doctor Franklin will be back in a moment and we can move you back onto the bed," Delenn reassured him. "You are doing so very well, Lennier. The doctor will soon be finished and then we will know how to make your pain better. You will see." She had very little faith in the certainty of these words, and she knew that Lennier knew this. But she was afraid, and she did not know what else to do or say.

Lennier did not respond. He just shut his eyes tightly and curled further into himself, his breaths becoming even closer together.

"Lennier?" Delenn reached toward him to lay a hand on his cheek to try to coax him to open his eyes or at the very least comfort him, but she had just enough time to leap sideways out of the way as Lennier abruptly half-leaned and half-collapsed over the side of the scanner bench and retched. He clung onto the bench for dear life as he emitted choked, broken sobs of pain.

When Delenn had recovered from her initial shock, she moved back toward him to steady him. "Oh my poor Lennier, I know it hurts, I know…" She reached for his shoulder to support him, and it was then that she happened to look down. And what she saw made her very nearly add to the puddle herself.

Blood. Bright red blood, and far too much of it.

" _Lennier!_ " Her cry came out more of a horrified gasp. She suddenly realized that his deathly pallor had faded even more, and that he was swaying dangerously even as she held him still. Little specks of blood surrounded his mouth, and he seemed barely conscious.

"DOCTOR!" she screamed over her shoulder before turning back to Lennier. "Oh Lennier, hold on, just hold on…DOCTOR FRANKLIN!"

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see the doctor running toward them. Delenn did not even give him the time to ask what had happened.

"He vomited blood. _So much_ blood." She was trying so hard to be Lennier's calm, solid rock during this time when he so much needed stability, but she found she was quickly losing this ability. But what the doctor said next sent made her current panic seem minor – she felt breathless with fear at his words.

"His stomach's ruptured and he's bleeding into his abdomen. Lennier – "

From where Delenn's arms held him steady, Lennier looked up at Franklin, fear and exhaustion and pain all mingling in his eyes to create the most pitiable concoction Delenn had ever beheld.

"Lennier, you _are_ going to have that surgery, and you're going to have it right now."

"Right…right now?" whispered Lennier, his body trembling against Delenn's. The fever seemed to be delaying his ability to process information.

Franklin nodded gravely. "Right now. The scan showed a defect – a tear - in your stomach wall, likely caused by a combination of infection and excessive vomiting, and the fact that you just vomited blood confirms that you have internal bleeding. We have to fix the tear immediately."

Delenn was dizzy with panic. "But you spoke of how dangerous surgery would be for Lennier, especially with him being so ill."

"And I'm afraid that risk has only risen." Franklin addressed Lennier then, but his words were obviously intended for the both of them. "With as sick as you are and the severity of this condition, there's only a fifty percent chance you'll survive the surgery. And after that is where things really get bad – your chances of infection are very high, and you could very easily go septic, even if we take the greatest of precautions. And I still don't know what is causing you to be so sick in the first place, but you'll still have to deal with that should you wake up again. But without the surgery, you _will_ die, and it will be soon – you'll bleed to death long before infection takes over. I'm so sorry I don't have better news or odds."

Delenn's world was spinning around her. Every alternative sounded unthinkably awful – like she was going to lose her very best friend. The chances of him making it out of this alive and recovering sounded like they were next to nothing. It was those hours she had spent in her quarters on the cruiser all over again, not knowing she would ever again lay eyes upon her Lennier. He would almost certainly die, and she could not bear that thought. Not again. She did not even try to hold back the sob that tore from her chest.

Lennier, on the contrary, seemed suddenly the calmest he had been since he had woken that morning. He nodded slowly at the doctor.

"All right."

"Okay. I'll get an anesthesiologist and a nurse to get you prepped and I'll go scrub." Franklin cast an apologetic and grieved look at Delenn before exiting the room.

As soon as he was gone, Lennier exhaled shakily, the breath ending in a sob. Ignoring the mess on the floor next to her, Delenn bent down so she could meet his eyes where he lay on the bench. This was it. This could easily be the very last time she spoke to her friend. She should be grateful – at least she had this chance. The past three times Lennier had been on the brink of death – three times too many - she had never had the opportunity to say goodbye. All of the weeping at his side and trying to comfort him with her presence even though he was unaware of her could come nowhere close to comparing to _saying goodbye_. This could be her one chance, her _only_ chance. She needed to make the best use of it. She loved Lennier with so much of her heart – she would move planets off their axes for him. But why, then, could she suddenly think of nothing to say to him?

She felt his hand, much too warm, take hers. He was so weak that she could barely tell he was squeezing her hand. She sobbed. That was her sweet Lennier – even in what might be the very last minutes of his conscious life, he was trying to comfort her.

"Lennier…" She tried to say it, to say what he meant to her, how much she would miss him. But the tears, tears which had been so difficult for her to shed for so long after Neroon's death and the war, came so quickly and so thick that she could not continue.

But then his thumb brush over her knuckles, in the same motion that she used so often to comfort him.

"Delenn, it…it will be all right." He inhaled sharply against a wave of pain but managed to maintain his composure this time. "One way or another, it will."

She knew that what he meant was " _you_ will be all right". She had much argument to make on that matter, but now was not the time. She breathed in shakily, her breath hitching, and nodded.

"It will. You can do this, Lennier. You are strong enough to survive this. And I will be here when you wake." She took his hand and gently brought it up to her chest, showing him the depth of her affection for him. "I love you, Lennier. _Ker'maier Ard'ka,_ my dearest friend."

There. There were the tears she had known he would shed, tears to match her own.

"And I love you, Delenn."

The nurse and anesthesiologist came then. They placed an oxygen mask over Lennier's nose and mouth, and then began pushing a thick, white liquid through his intravenous catheter. The anesthesiologist said that it would make him sleep. It acted quite quickly – as Delenn stroked his knuckles, Lennier's eyelids fluttered closed as he watched her, and then his hand went limp within hers. But she knew that the last thing he had seen had been her, and she hoped that this had been of at least some small comfort to him. And he was not in pain anymore. She tried to console herself with that thought, but the attempt was vastly futile. She felt fixated to the spot she was in, as though if she did not move, nothing else would either, and maybe Lennier would stay alive and out of pain forever. Maybe time would stand still, preserving him for always. She was not ready for him to go. Her heart cried out for him to _stay, please, please stay with me…_

"Ambassador." She felt a gentle hand on her arm, and she looked up with tear-filled eyes. It was Doctor Lillian Hobbs, Franklin's second in command. The little woman was looking down at Delenn with kindness and just a touch of pity. Delenn did not trust herself to speak – she only sniffled in response.

"It's time to go now," Hobbs said softly, with a note of apology in her voice. "Lennier needs to get into surgery as quickly as possible."

She was right, of course – time would not stop, no matter how desperately Delenn wished it to. She cast one final look at Lennier's pale yet oddly peaceful face, partially obscured by the endotracheal tube that the anesthesiologist had pushed down his throat. And then she followed Doctor Hobbs out of the room. The action of leaving was one of the hardest things Delenn had ever done. It felt like someone was peeling her heart apart, like one might peel the skin from a _glomo_ fruit with a knife - string by string being pulled away, each one more painful than the last.

Once they reached the hallway, her separation from Lennier became real. Her whole body trembled and her sobs overwhelmed her until she almost could not breathe. Doctor Hobbs guided her into a chair and sat down next to her, keeping a gentle hand on Delenn's arm for a minute, just letting her cry. After a time, she spoke quietly.

"Ambassador, I've informed Captain Sheridan of what is happening. If I may say so, I think it is best if you go to him. Lennier will be in surgery for several hours, and I think it's probably best if you are with someone close to you right now."

Delenn shook her head fiercely "No. No, I want to stay here. If I am not here when he wakes, poor Lennier will be so confused and frightened. I…I have to stay with him…I have to…"

"There is nothing you can do for him right now, Ambassador," said Doctor Hobbs patiently. "We will let you know just as soon as he is out of surgery, and you will have time to come here before he wakes up. You'll be more comfortable with loved ones than you will be here in Medlab. I know this is difficult and frightening, and I am very sorry that both you and Lennier are having to go through this. But he's in Doctor Franklin's hands now, and you have someone who loves you ready to support you. I know Lennier cares about you very much – don't you think he would want you to seek comfort and solace rather than doing your worrying and grieving alone?"

Anger flickered in Delenn's chest for a moment. This woman whom she did not know very well was certainly overstepping her boundaries. But her ire fizzled when she realized that the doctor was just trying to help. And she was right about Lennier – he would not want her to be alone just now. He had given up a very carefully guarded secret so that John could be more supportive of her, and Delenn realized that now was precisely the situation he had been preparing for. But it still hurt so badly to leave.

"All right," she whispered. "Could…could you please tell Marcus Cole and Vir Cotto what has happened? They are Lennier's dear friends as well – they should know." She glanced at through Lennier's window one more time. He was undressed now, and the nurse was scrubbing his abdomen for surgery. He would be in the operating room in another couple of minutes, and lost to her sight. Maybe lost forever. And there was nothing she could do.

With one final sob, she turned and fled Medlab.


	13. Let Us Pray

Delenn ran blindly down the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks, her heart lodged deep in her throat, making her choke as she pounded down the hallway. She had started out heading for John's office in Blue Sector, but somewhere along the line she realized she was actually headed for Green Sector. She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings when she entered the gardens. Had she intended to come here? She honestly could not remember. Emotionally exhausted and unable to go on, she slumped down on a stone bench, curled up on her side, and cried for all she was worth.

She was unsure how John found her – he probably had Mister Allan have the computer triangulate her location. She did not know how long she had been lying there when suddenly he was sitting next to her and pulling her into his arms. He did not say anything, and neither did she. She knew he knew exactly what was wrong, so she just stayed there in his warm embrace as her breath shuddered within her chest.

"I'm sorry, Delenn," he said at long last. "You shouldn't have to go through this again. Neither of you should."

She inhaled, her breath hitching. "Doctor Franklin says that even if he survives the surgery, he has little chance of recovering. Cutting into him is so terribly risky – the chances of him developing sepsis again are frighteningly high. And he has been so terribly ill that I just…oh, John, I just cannot see how he could possibly make it through this." She felt like she was being strangled by her own words. He gently steadied her into a sitting position and placed a hand behind her head so that she had to look him in the eyes.

"I know it seems hopeless right now," John said. "I know what grief is, and how it can hurt so much it takes your breath away. But Lennier is alive at this moment, and you have to hold onto that. Ever since he told me about his condition, I've realized that with everything he's been through and everything he continues to go through – he's a survivor, Delenn. He'll find the tiniest shred of possibility that this will all turn out okay and grab it and hold on for dear life. Because that's who he is, and you have to believe he can pull through. He's proven time and again that your faith in his is worth holding onto. And besides, the Delenn I know would never give up, even when things seem as though there is no possible way they could get any worse. The Delenn I know would say lots of prayers for Lennier and hold onto the hope that somehow, some way, she might see him again."

Delenn's bottom lip trembled. He was right, of course. If _she_ was not there to believe in Lennier, then who was? He was her dear, dear friend, who sacrificed so much on a regular basis for her well-being. She owed him this; she owed him faith in his tenacity and his ability to overcome even the most daunting of tasks. She would not give up on Lennier.

"Thank you," she sniffled, and he planted a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering for a long time.

The trees around them were shedding their flowers, and hundreds of the tiny white, delicate structures swirled around them, dropping into Delenn's hair and onto John's lap. Delenn's awareness of her surroundings finally surfaced enough for her to realize that she and John had been the only ones in the garden the entire time they had been there. He had cleared it for her to grieve and be comforted in. It was sweet, and she was glad of it. She needed it just now, to be alone with her pain and her fear and her grief and with the only person in the world who could begin to give her the comfort she needed. The only one who was not currently fighting for his life on an operating table, that was.

"I will pray for Lennier now," she said, trying to steady her voice but only succeeding a little bit. She had just folded her hands into a triangle when John interrupted her softly.

"If it's okay with you, can I pray with you?"

Delenn's mouth remained half-open in surprise for a moment. "Yes. Yes, it is." She met his eyes gratefully and saw there not only a desire to connect with her, to make her feel as though he was there to support her in any way he could during this difficult time, but also a genuine want to do anything he could that might help Lennier.

"Thank you," Delenn murmured, unfolding her hands for a moment and interlacing her fingers with his. "I know you are doing this both for me and for Lennier. And the fact that I know you do not believe in any higher power makes your gesture all the sweeter."

"I might not actively acknowledge any deity, but if there _is_ someone or something – be it a god or many gods or a universe with sentience – that can help Lennier, then I figure it's worth an ask. And I know how important your faith is to you. I love you, Delenn, and I want to learn everything about you and what's important to you, and to support you in every way I can." The earnestness and devotion on his face _almost_ began to break through the suffocating worry and grief that tormented her every thought.

She curved her palm around the contour of his cheek and then stretched upward to kiss him, briefly but tenderly. "Then let us pray."

"I don't know what to say." John sounded vaguely uncomfortable. In any other situation, it would have made Delenn smile.

" _What_ you say is not so important. It is what is in your heart that matters. _That_ is what the universe hears, not your words. We are all a part of a greater entity, and until we reach full enlightenment and can see its entire expanse, it shelters and cares for us. When one of its own suffers, we all hurt, because we are all connected. That is why all life is of value." The memory of Shakiri bleeding out on the interrogation chamber floor flickered at the edge of her mind, but she shoved it away. She had far too much to worry about right now to be haunted by her failure. "When we pray, we share our pain with the rest of the universe, and ask that healing and strength may be imparted upon those who need it."

"Lennier, in this case."

"Yes," she whispered, her heart aching.

"And you," he added.

She squeezed his hand before triangling her own and bowing her head. John followed her example. It took him a couple of tries to get the form correct, but soon he might have been to passerby a Religious Caste Minbari, but for his hair and Resistance uniform.

Entering a prayerful state, Delenn gave the universe thanks for having people in her life who cared so dearly for her and were so willing to go out of their area of comfort and give of themselves for her benefit. Then, she turned her attention to asking for healing for her dear friend Lennier and searching for even the smallest semblance of peace in this terrible storm.

Marcus sat cross-legged on his bed. The ache that churned in the pit of his stomach was almost enough to make him want to curl up, but for some reason that he could not explain he chose to hunch over, resting his elbows on his knees, folding his hands, and burying his face in them. It did little to ease his anxiety, however.

It had only been a year since he had sat on a dirty mattress on a freighter feeling much like this, and for the nearly the same reason. It was too soon. Far, far too soon. He tried to tell himself that this was different, that things had been more sure then, and even then they had turned out all right in the end. It might yet be all right.

But then again, it might not.

He snapped his head up when his door chime sounded. He almost told whomever it was to go away – he certainly was not in the mood for company at the moment. And Valen help the solicitor who saw fit to harass him right now. He doubted it was Delenn – she would almost certainly be with Sheridan right now, either harboring the siege in Medlab or somewhere else. But just in case…

"Who is it?" His voice sounded gruff, and there was a tightness in his throat that he just couldn't seem to swallow away.

The voice on the other end of the intercom was hesitant and shaky.

"It's Vir. Can…can I come in?"

 _Oh._ Marcus did want to be alone. He was used to dealing with painful situation on his own. After all, so many of the terrible things in his life had been the deaths of people he cared about. In the past, getting close to Marcus Cole had meant putting yourself at risk. That was just how it was. Things were different now – last year he had managed to put his self-loathing and guilt behind him, and he was slowly recovering from years of feeling shame that he remained alive while so many of the people he loved were gone forever. But old habits died hard, and he was still accustomed to dealing with his pain alone. But he knew not everyone was that way. Vir especially was the sort of person who needed the comfort of his friends during difficult times. And despite his own reticence, Marcus would be selfish to deny him that.

"Open," he ordered softly, and his door swung sideways to reveal one very pitiable-looking Centauri. The neatness of the hair crest was a great point of pride amongst Centauri males, Marcus knew – to go out in public with a mussed crest was to court humiliation of the highest form. Vir's crest sagged, tips of the normally upright hair curling downward toward his scalp. From that alone, Marcus would have guessed that something was very wrong. The tears in his friend's eyes and on his cheeks only confirmed it.

"Marcus…" sniffled Vir. Marcus unfolded his legs and moved over on the bed so Vir could sit next to him. The Centauri hadn't even touched the mattress before he was sobbing. Marcus put his arm around him and pulled him close, and Vir turned so that he deposited large, hot tears into Marcus's shoulder. Marcus didn't mind. He rubbed his friend's back and let him cry. They sat like that for several minutes. Neither spoke. Neither needed to – their pain was the same.

After a time, Vir broke the relative silence.

"Didn't…didn't we _just_ do this?" he asked, voice cracking.

Marcus's shoulders slumped as he sighed, and he nodded.

"Yes. I am afraid we did."

"It isn't fair," Vir whimpered plaintively. He sounded ever so slightly like a child having a tantrum, but Marcus did not begrudge him that. How could he, when he himself wanted to scream into space and pound his fists against the wall until he put a hole in the side of the station?

"No," Marcus murmured. "No, it isn't." He clenched the hand that wasn't wrapped around Vir into a tight fist. It was not fair in the least, especially not when it was happening to someone with as good and kind a soul as his friend Lennier. And, selfish though it might be, Marcus thought that it wasn't fair to _him_ , either, nor to Delenn nor Vir. To be faced so frequently with the toll of potentially losing their friend…it was so emotionally draining that Marcus thought a month of straight sleep could not cure the exhaustion in his heart. But as much as his soul cried out for rest, it could not. Not now, not when his friend was yet again so close to death.

"I just want him to be okay," whispered Vir, sounding as wearily desperate as Marcus felt.

"So do I," he replied. There were so many things he _could_ say, so many little comforts. That Lennier had proven himself a worthy adversary toward serious illness in the past and could again; that if anyone could pull through this, it was him. But there was nothing he could say that had not been said before – there had, after all, been far too much opportunity to say such things. And both of them knew how hollow those reassurances would be – because they could so very easily turn out to be untrue. There was an incredibly real chance they would never see their friend again.

Marcus closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against the top of Vir's head, continuing to allow the Centauri to cry into his shoulder. It had, strangely enough, been their shared affection for Lennier that had brought the two of them together in the first place. And now, Marcus found himself unexpectedly glad at Vir's presence. The ache in his heart had not lessened in the least, and he was not happy that someone else should be as upset as he was. But comforting Vir made him feel like he was _doing_ something in a time when he felt so terribly helpless. And Lennier wouldn't want Vir to be upset – Lennier didn't like it when any of his friends were unhappy.

So Marcus continued to sit with his friend Vir, letting him cry and hoping that his presence helped to ease his pain at least a little bit. And slowly, as time passed, he came to realize that it was nice to have someone there for him, too.

Doctor Stephen Franklin had performed a lot of surgeries in his life. Some had been higher-pressure than others. But this, this was up there with the most stressful of all of them. There was so much risk involved that Franklin didn't even want to think about it. But he had to – that was his job. He was the doctor on the case. It just wasn't fair that his patient also happened to be his friend.

As he scrubbed in, Franklin had needed to push the memory of the horror on Delenn's face when she had seen her best friend vomit copious amounts of frank blood and then immediately heard that he needed emergency surgery and that his prognosis was far less than ideal. He could not let that haunt him. He had far too much to think about.

He ordered his surgery technicians to secure the OR in preparation for sealing. Once the team was in there, no one was to go out or come in. It was by no means a foolproof method of preventing contamination of his fragile patient, but it was a start.

Franklin was the last one to walk into the OR, and when he heard the door snap shut and seal with a hiss behind him and saw Lennier, intubated and pale as a ghost, he felt like his stomach was torsing inside his abdomen. No. Now was _not_ the time to get nervous about a surgery. Far too much depended on this procedure.

But therein lay so much of the problem.

Franklin drew a deep breath and forced himself to focus.

"I want him ventilated," he confirmed with the anesthesiologist. "He's missing his right inferior lung lobe, and he's been seriously systemically ill for several days. "

The anesthesiologist responded with a single nod and the turn of a dial. A couple of seconds later, Franklin heard the rhythmic, mechanical hitching of the ventilator breathing for his patient. Good. That took one risk out of the equation.

The nurse had prepped Lennier for a full exploratory laparotomy. Franklin had weighed the pros and cons of a complete ex lap as he had scrubbed. If he was going to cut into Lennier, it was critical that he check everything in the abdomen to make sure he wasn't dealing with any _more_ comorbidities – he wouldn't put anything past Lennier's troubled body at this point. But on the other hand, Lennier was so sick that it was imperative that he spend as little time as possible under anesthesia. In the end, Franklin had decided that it was time to put his skills to the test. He would do the full ex lap, but he would do it as quickly as he possibly could.

Taking a deep breath, he incised the Minbari's pale skin from his xiphoid to his pubis in one long, single cut. He then entered the abdomen, turning his scalpel blade upside down and stabbing, then extending the incision. _Good. Step one down._

It took him a frustratingly longer than normal to locate the stomach – it was small due to the volume it had lost in the rupture, much like a deflated balloon. And it was hidden in an abdomen flooded with blood. He heard one of the surgery techs stifle a gasp at the severity of the hemoabdomen.

He spoke to the anesthesiologist again. "He needs to be transfused throughout the procedure. Whole blood, Minbari Type R Negative." A technician scurried off to set up the transfusion system, and Franklin continued his work.

Despite the lack of visualization, he found the stomach. His heart pounded in his ears as he examined it – it looked terrible, and for a moment he was concerned about whether or not the tissue was still viable. The walls were severely thickened from the extended bout of gastritis Lennier had been experiencing, and a tear surrounded by a sickly-looking dark red tissue was evident in the body of the organ. Barely able to breathe with nervousness, Franklin used the very tip of his scalpel blade to nick the part of the stomach not near the rip, and to his great relief, a small drop of blood welled up where his instrument had been not moments before.

"Stomach is still viable," he said aloud as he began working so that his notes could be recorded for his surgery report. "One centimeter defect in the body of the stomach, communicating with the abdominal cavity, surrounded by a one centimeter rim of questionable tissue. I'm going to resect all of the questionable tissue and suture the edges of the healthier tissue together, then do a full ex lap followed by copious lavage of the entire abdominal cavity to try to minimize peritonitis from stomach acid and blood."

And that was what he did. Despite his concerns, Lennier remained startlingly stable under anesthesia. Despite the blood loss, his blood pressure and heart rate remained fairly steady, and his anesthetic depth stayed adequate throughout the procedure. The latter was, ironically, a bit of a concern. Over the last thirteen years, Franklin had come to realize that Minbari bodies were so hard-wired for survival that they tended to fight anesthesia, both at induction and during maintenance. Physiologically, their bodies thought the drugs were trying to kill them. But according to the anesthesiologist, Lennier had experienced no problems with induction whatsoever – he had lapsed blissfully into unconsciousness as Delenn comforted him – and during surgery he did not try to wake up even once. To Franklin, this was a warning sign of just how ill Lennier was. He was too weak to fight, and when a Minbari reached that point, things got scary. But right now, Lennier needed to be unconscious, so Franklin decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and to just hope for the best.

There were times when there was not much else one could do.


	14. When We Are Together

Delenn prayed for hours and hours. She did not think she had remained in prayer for so long at one time since her days in temple. But how _different_ those prayers had been. She had been so young and curious and full of exuberance, praying for enlightenment and answers to all of the universe's puzzles. Now she was broken and begging. How much things had changed.

John had ceased his prayers after a time and had switched to stroking her hair rhythmically as she leaned against him, her eyes closed and her hands folded in a triangle. The setting, with the two of them alone in the garden with little white flowers spiraling lazily to the ground all around them, would at any other time have been peaceful. But even with its beauty and relative centering of her soul brought on by her prayers, Delenn could find no peace.

It was five hours since she had run out of Medlab when John's link beeped, although in the moment Delenn was unaware of how much time had passed.

"Franklin to Sheridan."

Delenn shot upright and watched John with wide eyes as he tapped the link and responded.

"Sheridan here."

"Is Delenn with you?"

"I am here," Delenn responded breathlessly, leaning over John's lap so that the link picked up here voice.

"Delenn, Lennier's recovering from anesthesia. He's still unconscious, but he should be waking up fairly soon, so you should probably come. We'll talk more when you get here."

"I am on my way." Delenn leapt to her feet so quickly that her muscles, stiff from having sat on the hard stone bench for so many hours, cried out in protest. She ignored them.

"I...I have to go, I…I love you John, and thank you." She stumbled over her words in her haste and nervousness at what Lennier's condition might be. She was about to take off in the direction of Medlab when she felt John's hand grasp her arm gently but firmly. She had little choice to but turn around, her pulse and respirations both quickened and intensified with emotion.

"Delenn."

She glanced back in the direction of Medlab, where her heart cried out desperately to run to.

"Delenn, look at me."

She did.

"Stephen said Lennier's recovering from the anesthesia. That means he's _alive_. He's made it over the first hurdle. That's a good thing."

Her breath shuddered with a combination of nervousness and relief as the meaning of his words sunk in.

"Yes. Yes, he's alive." She inhaled shakily as tears welled in her eyes. _I will see him again, at the very least._

John took both of her hands in his own with a meaningful look, one that bid her take heart and peace from this news. She nodded at him, and he let go with a warm smile.

"Go to him. He needs you."

Delenn left tears on his cheek as she kissed him. And then she turned and rushed to Medlab.

Doctor Franklin met her as she came in.

"How is he?" She asked from across the room as the door swung shut behind her.

"He's doing okay," Franklin said honestly, waiting for her to come to him and then leading her not toward the room where Lennier had been staying in the general ward, but toward the intensive care unit. "We're keeping him in ICU for the time being so we can monitor him more closely. But despite everything, the surgery went as well as I could have hoped. No real anesthetic complications, and the procedure itself was successful. I fixed the tear in his stomach and took a look at everything else inside the abdomen. Beyond an inflamed pancreas, which we knew about, everything looked okay, except for the fact that it was covered in blood. But since I fixed the stomach, the bleeding has stopped, and he's stable now. His temperature's normal, too, although that's most likely because the anesthetic drugs brought it down."

Franklin stopped outside one of the rooms and motioned for Delenn to enter in front of him. Her heart pounding, she did so.

Walking into that room reminded her hauntingly of when Lennier had been so terribly sick the previous year. He had been in the intensive care unit then, as well, all hooked up to so many machines and support implements, and as pale as could be. And entirely unresponsive. Delenn had spent days at his side alternating between praying for him to wake and trying to coax him into consciousness, hoping that somehow something she said or did would get through to him, wherever he was. Seeing him like that again sent that old fear creeping up ominously inside her, but she forced it down. This was _not_ then – if Lennier could survive that, he could survive this, too. He was strong, and she would help him through it every step of the way.

She pulled a chair up by the bedside and took her friend's hand. It felt neither warm nor cool to her, and that was encouraging. So were the values on the vitals monitor above his head. Lennier was attached to a twelve-lead electrocardiograph and a pulse oximeter for monitoring, and the doctor was running the _Pseudocyanin ubique_ antibodies and fluids into his catheter, as well as what looked like the small remainder of a blood transfusion. In all, it was a relatively mild amount of monitoring and support compared to what she had previously seen attached to her friend. But it sobered her all the same. And even though she knew Lennier was still recovering from the effects of the anesthesia, she still could not completely push the screaming worry in the back of her mind at the sight of him, so pale and unmoving. She looked up at the doctor for reassurance.

"I called you in here right when we got him off the table," Franklin explained. "Not only because I knew you'd want to see him and know how the surgery went as soon as possible, but because I think having you here while he wakes up will help him. Patients sometimes become dysphoric when they recover from anesthesia, but I want him to be as calm as possible. He's very weak, and he has a massive incision. He's probably going to still be in quite a bit of pain as well, although he's had a _lot_ of medication for that – he's going to have to lie still. I don't want to have to sedate him, though – with his systemic illness, I don't want to add any more sedative drugs to this mix. But he seems to respond to your presence even on a subconscious level. If you're the first person he sees and hears, hopefully he'll be calm as he wakes up."

Delenn nodded understandingly, stroking the side of Lennier's headbone repetitively. "Do you think the pain medication will help now?"

"I really hope so," replied Franklin. "I think the reason the pain meds and the anti-nausea meds weren't touching his symptoms before was because the lesion on his stomach wall just kept attracting more and more bacteria and becoming increasingly inflamed. It all started with a virus – food poisoning – but due to his immune system's inability to fight the infection properly, the virus persisted, allowing bacteria to come in and cause a secondary infection. They ate away at the lining of his stomach until it was so thin that a bout of particularly forceful vomiting caused it to perforate. Now that this haven for bacteria is gone, I'm thinking the drugs should start to have at least _some_ effect."

"I desperately hope you are right," murmured Delenn. The thought of Lennier waking up in as much pain as he had been in before was nearly too much for her to bear. She tried to push aside the thought, to look ahead, rather than behind, even though the future was just as uncertain as the past had been. "But I know that the surgery was only the first of many points this could go wrong. Tell me, Doctor, what do we do now?"

"We wait," said Franklin simply. Delenn appreciated his bluntness and honesty, but she wished for a different answer. She wanted to _do_ something. She was normally so good at waiting for the universe to do its work. But her friend had been ill too badly and for too long. She had grown impatient with the universe.

"We wait and watch," reiterated Franklin. "He'll be in and out for a few hours as the anesthetic drugs wear off. By then, the antigenic stimulation from the stomach rupture will kick in – even with lots of washing out of the abdomen, we couldn't get out all of the microscopic things the body recognizes as foreign. He'll likely run another fever." Delenn bit her lip at this, but Franklin quickly reassured her. "Believe it or not, we actually _want_ him to run a fever in this case. It'll be a sign that his body's fighting the infection that the stomach rupture and the surgery are going to predispose him to. Especially with his weak immune system, having that positive sign of function will be reassuring. But after several hours, the fever should break again, after his body's addressed the contamination. If the fever persists, then we know we've got a problem. Same thing if his temperature gets too low at any point – as you know, that's a sign of sepsis." Delenn suppressed a shudder at that word. There was _such_ a high risk of sepsis in this case, she knew. But knowing it did not make this any easier.

"But beyond that, we just keep him comfortable as best we can," Franklin finished. "We'll need to keep him as still and quiet as we can for awhile – both his internal and external incisions need time to heal. And he should stay on his back – that's best for both his healing and his comfort at this time, since he has a large abdominal incision."

Delenn recalled how resistant Lennier had been to lying on his back over the past few days, especially earlier that day when the pain had become so intense. Guarding his abdomen had seemed to help with both Lennier's pain and nausea, but just in the most miniscule amounts.

 _Oh. The nausea._ She had been so caught up with her worry over Lennier's stomach tearing – a life-threatening medical emergency, to be certain – that she had forgotten about what had brought it on in the first place. A terrible thought crossed her mind.

"What if he vomits?" she asked, wringing her hands. "We have not been able to get Lennier to stop vomiting for days, but I imagine that doing so now would potentially harm his healing stomach."

Franklin sighed despondently. "That is correct. It would be like sewing up a torn muscle and then immediately exercising it – his stomach needs rest. Unfortunately, beyond the anti-nausea and anti-emetic medications he'll be getting, there really isn't any way to prevent it. And on top of it all, the pain from the surgery and the anesthetic drugs he's had might make his nausea worse. But if he does vomit, I'm worried his stomach could re-rupture."

Fear coursed through Delenn in pulse waves at those words, but what Franklin said next was more reassuring, if only slightly.

"The good news is, the reason Lennier could not stop vomiting before is likely the same reason the drugs didn't touch his pain – the heavily infected local area of the stomach wall. Bacteria just kept growing and growing there. But now that the area of infection has been removed, it's my hope that the symptoms that went along with it will go away. But," he cautioned, "if he _does_ vomit, it's much more dangerous for him now that he's lying on his back. Someone needs to keep an extremely close eye on him at all times, and lay him on his side at the soonest indication. Aspiration pneumonia is the last thing he needs right now, especially with a missing lung lobe."

"I will ensure Lennier is just as safe as he can be. Never you worry about that, Doctor." Delenn managed the smallest of smiles, but just beneath her forcibly calm exterior, she was nearly panicking. But she was able to take her mind off of her worry just then, because just then Lennier sighed softly and stirred just the smallest bit. Delenn instantly took her attention away from Franklin and placed it all on her recuperating friend.

"It is all right, Lennier. I am right here with you." She held his hand, pale and just the littlest bit less limp than before, in one of her own and stroked his forehead with the back of the other. Lennier swallowed, then whimpered and stirred again, with a bit more strength this time.

"Steady, Lennier," soothed Delenn. "Lie still. It is all right, you are safe and on the mend."

And Lennier did lie still, as though even in his current state of incoherence, he understood and yielded to Delenn's wishes.

"Good, that is it," she murmured. Lennier swallowed a couple of more times, and then his eyes opened and his gaze focused on her, and Delenn felt a rush of air in her chest as she took what felt like her first deep breath in hours. "Well done, Lennier."

"Delenn." There was barely any substance behind Lennier's voice – he more mouthed her name than spoke it. He swallowed once more and tried again, a touch more audible this time. "Delenn…am I alive?"

Delenn's heart broke at his plaintive question, but she did not allow her feelings to be heard in her voice. "Yes, my dear. You are still very much alive, thanks to our wonderfully skilled Doctor Franklin." She exchanged a smile with the doctor, who looked proud and relieved simultaneously.

Lennier sighed shakily. "Good. That is good." He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to triangle his hands – likely to say a prayer of thanks. After a few awkward movements in which he tried to find a comfortable position in which to rest his hands on his torso, however, Delenn took pity on him and clasped his hand in her own, lowering it to his side on the bed. He looked distressed at first, but as soon as he saw the love and reassurance in her eyes, he settled, even managing the smallest of smiles. But the warmth that flooded Delenn's heart at the sight of it was short-lived, for Lennier tried to shift position suddenly, producing a wince and a sharp intake of breath.

"Do not try to move. You have just had major surgery – you must lie very still or you will tear the sutures in your stomach." The severity of her admonishment was heavily attenuated by the affection and loving concern in her voice. But Lennier nodded and ceased his attempts at moving all the same, settling for lying still while Delenn ran her thumb over his knuckles. He took a few measured breaths, each one deeper than the last, as though he were testing to see how much distension his abdomen could undergo before it became painful. As Delenn had predicted, after the third or fourth breath he shut his eyes and winced again, although the reaction was less severe this time.

"Does it hurt very badly?" whispered Delenn, afraid to know the answer.

But the corners of Lennier's mouth twitched upward. "Not…not nearly so bad as it did. It is…bearable now." he rasped, his voice rough with a combination of lack of water intake and the recent presence of the endotracheal tube. "And the nausea is only in the background now."

Delenn sent up a silent prayer of thanks. She may yet lose her Lennier in the coming days, but at the very least he was not suffering so terribly anymore. The expression with which Lennier was regarding her was clearly meant to reassure her that he was all right. She was not sure how much she believed him, but at least he could put forth a semblance that all was relatively well. He had not even been able to try in those last few minutes before he had been put under anesthesia.

Franklin had kindly been allowing them their time together, but he now spoke up.

"You've had a lot of pain medications and anti-nausea drugs. Let me know when they start to wear off and I'll boost them. The more comfortable you are, the better your body will heal. You had an ulcer in the lining of your stomach from the infection, and it got so deep that it ruptured. The surgery was successful, but these next few days are going to be touch-and-go. Right now the goal is just to get you over the first hump. In a couple of days we'll try to get you drinking some fluids, and from there we'll work on slowly reintroducing food. But one step at a time."

"I believe one step might be all I can manage right now, Doctor," murmured Lennier with a small smile. Though Delenn worried about the fact that Lennier was ill enough to openly admit how weak he was, the fact that he was in a good humor was at least a bit encouraging.

"You should rest while you can," Franklin told his patient. "The inflammation caused by the stomach rupture is likely to cause you to have a fever in a few hours. It might make you pretty uncomfortable, and you'll need all the strength you can get to deal with that."

"Then rest I shall. Thank you, Doctor." Lennier's expression was a meaningful one – despite the lightness of his words, he was deeply grateful toward Franklin. As was Delenn – the good doctor had saved Lennier's life once more. Delenn only hoped that it was saved for a long, long time.

Exhaustion and the remainder of the anesthetic drugs quickly put Lennier back to sleep. Delenn stroked his forehead as he shut his eyes and his breathing became slower and even. And for a few hours, Lennier seemed more at peace than he had in days. He still stirred and whimpered softly in his sleep occasionally, but there was far less of it now, and he was less restless and uncomfortable. Previously, Lennier's suffering had been obvious even in his sleep; now, however, he seemed to be truly resting for the first time in days. And even though Delenn was still a tightly wound ball of worry, she felt herself relax just the smallest bit at this realization.

But Delenn's relief was short-lived. After a mere few hours of restful sleep, Lennier awoke, trying weakly to shift position while making soft noises of discontentment under his breath until Delenn put a gentle hand on his shoulder, urging him to stop. He looked up at her unhappily with glassy eyes, and Delenn knew that Franklin's prediction had come true. Despite the presence of the vitals monitor above Lennier's head, she instinctively laid the back of her hand on his forehead. He was definitely feverish. She glanced upward – one hundred degrees and likely climbing. Lennier shivered beneath her touch and she tucked his blankets more closely around him, taking great care to stay far away from his abdomen.

"I take it this is the fever Doctor Franklin warned us about?" Lennier asked. He still looked so weary – a mere few hours of sleep, even good sleep, were not nearly enough for his weakened body.

"I would say so," Delenn replied. She pressed the doctor call button and stroked Lennier's knuckles until Franklin came less than a minute later. The doctor examined Lennier thoroughly and asked if his pain or nausea were worse than when he had awakened from the surgery. Lennier replied that they were a bit, but not terribly so, and that the chills he was currently experiencing were actually what were making him most uncomfortable at the moment. The doctor seemed satisfied with this, and he instructed Delenn to keep Lennier as comfortable as she could – letting him have more blankets if he was cold and taking them off if he was too hot. But since they wanted the fever to clear the remaining bacteria in Lennier's abdomen, they would not give him fever reducers unless his temperature became dangerously high – Delenn was to inform Franklin immediately should this happen. Otherwise, the doctor would come to check on his patient every half hour.

It was a very, very long night, even longer than Delenn had predicted. Lennier's abdomen was just uncomfortable enough that he kept trying to shift position, and each time Delenn would have to gently remind him that he needed to lie still and on his back. Lennier did settle every time, but not without a heartbreakingly sad expression.

"I am sorry. I truly am," Delenn told him several times. And she was. And she could tell that Lennier knew this, for every time she bid him lie still, he would obey, and once his sadness and frustration resolved, he would look at her with such love in his eyes.

To try to distract Lennier from his discomfort, Delenn told him of the temple in Yedor where she had studied as a novitiate. It had been one of the first temples constructed during the time of Valen, and every inch of it was full of history. It had miraculously managed to survive the war with only mild damage, so she could safely speak of it without making either Lennier or herself sad. And speak she did, telling Lennier of the historical significance of aspect after aspect of what had been her home throughout her formative years. He listened quietly, his attention startlingly rapt in the face of his fever, even smiling a bit occasionally. And he did seem a bit less uncomfortable while he was listening, so Delenn kept up her monologue.

After awhile, Lennier started to doze off, so Delenn finally stopped talking and simply stroked his knuckles. But frustratingly, every time Lennier was nearly asleep, he would begin to shiver with cold again, bringing him back into wakefulness. Six hours after the onset of the fever, it was nearly morning and Lennier's temperature had reached one hundred three degrees. Delenn could feel her worry beginning to shove its way unceremoniously to the forefront of her consciousness again. It had almost certainly been too long. She ran a hand lightly over Lennier's cheekbone where he rested – superficially only, she knew. His eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes, and Delenn silently cursed herself for touching him and interrupting what little rest he had been able to get.

"I am sorry, Lennier," she murmured. "I did not mean to wake you. I am going to speak with Doctor Franklin for a few moments – you have been feverish for too long, and your temperature is too high for comfort." Worry gnawed painfully at her stomach. She should never have allowed herself to feel even the faintest glimmer of hope that the worst was over after the surgery. There had been far, far too much risk involved with the operation. Her poor friend was becoming septic before her very eyes, and the thought of his already weakened body being put through that again forced her to stifle a sob. There was no chance that this could end well, not now, not this time. _Oh, Lennier…_

She was pulled from the depths of her inner turmoil when Lennier began to fidget again. Delenn, wondering if he was becoming delirious, laid a hand on his arm to try to settle him, and suddenly realized that he was trying to pull off his blanket.

"What is it, Lennier?" she asked gently.

"'M hot." He weakly tried once more to pull off his mountain of blankets, but in doing so he accidentally jarred his sore and sutured abdomen. Lennier hissed with pain, shutting his eyes and going rigid for a moment while he waited for the worst to pass.

"Lie still, let me." Delenn tried not to allow the slightest of hopes to kindle into a tiny flame in her heart. If Lennier felt too warm, then at the very least his fever had stopped rising. There was no guarantee it would not start again soon…but maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of it breaking.

Franklin entered the room to check on Lennier just as Delenn finished stripping off the last of the blankets.

"Too warm?" the doctor asked, and Lennier nodded lethargically. "Okay, it's about time. If your body feels like it needs to cool down, then we'll do everything we can to help it." He filled a bowl with lukewarm water and placed it on the table beside the bed, handing a washcloth to Delenn. "Since unlike most of the species we have here, Minbari don't sweat, we'll just have to create the cooling effect artificially."

"Do you think this is his fever breaking?" Delenn sounded too eager to her own ears, but she could not help it. She wanted so much for all of this to be over, for her friend to be well.

"I'm afraid it's too soon to know for sure," said Franklin gently. "But here's hoping. Keep a close eye on his temperature and let me know if there's any problems or major changes. Otherwise I'll be back in thirty minutes."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Delenn, and Lennier echoed her with a barely audible "thank you". Delenn dipped the washcloth into the basin, wrung it out, and dabbed at Lennier's pyretic forehead. Seemingly on instinct, he leaned slightly into the coolness of it with a soft sigh of relief. Delenn could not help but smile.

"Does that feel better?"

"Yes, thank you," he murmured, eyes closed in comfort.

"Good." She removed the cloth momentarily to re-wet it, but when she did so, Lennier opened his eyes with an expression of mild betrayal.

Delenn could not help but chuckle. "Do not look at me like that! The heat radiating from your skin is causing the cloth to become warm quite quickly. Leaving it there in that state will bring you no relief." Her tone was just a bit teasing as she wrung the cloth and placed it on his forehead again, and he relaxed once more.

"You know," she said, all mockery gone from her voice, "not so very long ago, you would have been positively mortified at my doing this."

He managed a little smile. "Much has changed, Delenn."

"But not all for the better, I am afraid," she said sadly, thinking of all the time Lennier had spent being unwell and suffering over the past year, and how much more of his life would be wasted in the same way in the future – should he even survive this. That thought hurt. It hurt very much.

But then Lennier gingerly reached out and laid his hand over hers, and then slowly, tenderly, drew it up close to his heart in a gesture of deep devotion. "More for the better than for the worse," he whispered.

Tears prickled at the corners of Delenn's eyes. "Oh, _Ker'maier Ar'dka_ , I do not know what I could possibly have done to deserve you." _Certainly not anything recently, when I have failed to stabilize a government that I created, allowed someone good and loyal to die to save my life, and failed to save the life of someone who was driven to self-destruction partially by my actions._

Lennier's fever-glassed brown eyes searched Delenn's for a moment, and she saw a brief flicker of worry. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but quite suddenly he seemed to be having difficulty keeping his eyes open.

"Are you sleepy?" Delenn asked, and Lennier responded with the slightest of nods. Delenn gently pried her hand out from beneath his and positioned his hands beside him on the bed so he would not aggravate his tender abdomen or incision by trying to get comfortable.

"Then rest now," she bade him gently. "Rest and get well, so that you may remain by my side for much time to come. For I know we are both happiest and strongest in facing the trials of this life when we are together."


	15. Every Tear And Prayer

To Delenn's incomparable relief, Lennier's fever broke after a couple of hours of diligent brow-wetting. It was fully morning by the time his temperature leveled off. It took a couple hours more for Delenn to feel satisfied that it was not going to spike back up again right at that moment, but finally she was confident enough and _exhausted_ enough that she bent over Lennier's bed, laid her head on her arms, and fell asleep. When she woke several hours later, Lennier was still asleep, and his temperature was still normal.

Despite the fact that Lennier's condition continued to improve over the next few days, with far less pain than before the surgery and a miraculous complete lack of vomiting, Delenn still could not fully relax. There was still time for sepsis to set in, and there would be until Lennier's incision completely healed; the doctor had said that this could take two weeks, or even longer. But on the fourth day, Franklin told them that even though there was still a small possibility of infection, the period of the worst risk had likely passed. And with Lennier on a constant drip of his antibodies with his titers being checked daily, there was a good chance his recovery would continue to move in a positive direction. Delenn wept with relief at this news, needing to restrain herself from throwing her arms around her still-healing friend. Lennier just sighed shakily and held her hand as she cried, a combination of relief, gratitude, exhaustion, and love for her in his eyes.

It might be all right. Everything might yet be all right.

Later that day, Marcus and Vir came to visit yet again. They had come every day since the day after Lennier's surgery. Lennier loved seeing them – Marcus told campy jokes that were funnier than they should be, and every time they came Vir looked so utterly relieved to see that Lennier was still on the mend. Their presence lightened his spirits, which was necessary given the continued (though thankfully decreased) discomfort he was feeling, his ever-present guilt about what he was putting Delenn through, and his general abhorrence for being confined to bed. Marcus and Vir never stayed for very long, though, because Lennier tired very easily. He felt awful about it – they would be halfway through a conversation and suddenly he would barely be able to keep his eyes open. But today, as always, they reassured him that it was all right and it was not his fault, and after promising to come back again tomorrow, they left him with Delenn to rest.

Lennier slept for a few hours after that, with Delenn watching lovingly and protectively over him. When he woke, she was still at his side, staring across the room, gaze unfocused. He lifted his hand to lay it on her arm, and she jumped slightly at his touch and turned to face him.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you," he murmured.

"It is all right. I should have been more attentive," she replied turning back to face him. He held back a wince at the dark circles he saw beneath her eyes. Delenn had of course not been sleeping well while Lennier had been ill, but the effects of her exhaustion were definitely worse today than they had been before. Something had been bothering her for days, something besides his illness. He had seen it the night after his surgery, and he had wanted to speak with her about it then – he wanted desperately to help in whatever way he could and comfort her as much as possible. But he had been quite feverish and feeling very unwell that night, and he had fallen straight to sleep before he could speak with Delenn about what was troubling her. But he was feeling a touch better now – it was time. Delenn was suffering enough on Lennier's accord – the least he could do was help her through whatever else might be causing her pain.

"If you would not consider it presumptuous for me to observe, I would say that you were being very attentive to something inside your mind," Lennier said softly.

She cast a small, sad smile in his direction. "You would not be incorrect in that observation."

"Something is troubling you, Delenn." It was such a direct observation, one he would not have even thought of making aloud a year ago. "I would help, if I could."

The sadness in her eyes made his tender stomach churn with worry. "Oh my dear, if only it were that easy."

"At least let me try," he whispered shakily, eyes wide and pleading. He was nearly begging at this point, but if it would convince Delenn to open up to him and give him the chance to comfort her, it would be worth it. He would gladly sacrifice every ounce of his dignity if it meant he could help her.

Clearly fearing she had upset him, Delenn laid her palm against the side of his cheek. But Lennier did not want to add to her troubles. He reached up grasped her hand gently, and the corners of her mouth managed to prick upward just a little. But they fell back down just as quickly.

"Oh Lennier," she murmured. "I had hoped so much to save this conversation for at least several days from now."

Lennier swallowed, recalling the awful moment a few days ago in which Delenn had discovered a secret he had kept for her own benefit – or what he had thought was her own benefit. She had not wanted to speak of it because of her worries over his health, but he had pressed her. Unpleasant memories of her pain and his own guilt flooded his mind.

"The last time you said that, you got very upset," he murmured. "I would be content to save this conversation for later if you were not already so unhappy. But I can't stand to see you like this. You do not deserve to be unhappy. Please, Delenn, let me help you."

She intertwined her fingers with his where their hands still rested on his cheek, and then brought her hand and his with it down to the bed at his side.

"Please do not think that my reluctance to speak of this is an indication of any lack of trust in you. It is just that in my heart, I feel not only grief, but also shame."

Lennier tightened his grip on her hand. "No matter what it is, Delenn, you will always find friendship and support in me."

"Thank you," she whispered, and she drew a shaky breath. "Lennier, I…I do not know how to tell you this...how to admit to this." He ran his thumb over her knuckles, hoping that it would convey to her the same strength the action on her part did for him. "After security arrested Shakiri, when I went with them to the interrogation room, Shakiri…he committed suicide, Lennier." Tears welled at the corners of her eyes. Startled, Lennier blinked a couple of times.

"Suicide? But moments before he had been so intent on killing _us_."

"He was desperately hurting," murmured Delenn. "He was so helpless, so _hopeless_ that he could not see another way out. He had been abandoned by everyone he once loved, and as much grief as I have known in my life, I cannot imagine what that must feel like. But he should not have had to die. He could have gotten the help he needed, and I tried to tell him that, and I tried to apologize, but…" A soft sob shuddered throughout her body, and she withdrew her hand from Lennier's to clasp it tightly with her other, her knuckles becoming white. Lennier reached for her arm.

"You blame yourself," he murmured. She nodded shakily. "But Delenn, you shouldn't. You said yourself that Shakiri was not well."

"But my actions helped to drive him so far from the light that all he could see was darkness. He was my enemy in wartime, yes. But he was still _someone_. And _everyone_ – Minbari, human, Centauri, Narn, _everyone_ – deserves to live, to have a second chance, to show the good they can do in the universe. Now Shakiri cannot do any of those things, and the last way that people perceived him was as a coward. And that _was_ my fault."

"Oh, Delenn." She was so broken. The strongest person he knew, the person who was dearer to his heart than anyone else in the universe, the one who saw goodness where no one else could, _Delenn_ , was broken. Not just upset, not just worried, not just grieving. _Broken._ She had been through too much, had her ideals shattered and everything that defined her questioned and then torn to shreds. And what remained was utterly raw. She needed help, needed _him_. But Lennier had never seen her like this before. She was his rock, his strength – to see her this weakened and vulnerable shook him and he could think of no elaborate speeches of reassurance.

"It is not your fault." Those words, whispered, were all he could provide. They were pitiful, such a shadow of what needed to be said.

She did not even manage a smile that time, and Lennier felt his heart fracture into a million pieces. What could he possibly say to correct the guilt she felt or the suffering she had endured? Lennier tried to move his body closer to hers, hoping that his physical presence would provide at least _some_ comfort. In doing so, however, he jarred his abdomen, still very much sore from both his incision and the disease processes which had been occurring inside it. He gasped and winced. Delenn moved instantly to tend to him, holding his hand for several seconds until the worst passed and he slowly began to relax. But the way she looked at him the entire time – it was like she knew she had failed him, too.

 _You haven't failed me, Delenn_! Lennier wanted to scream it to the universe, but he was still too physically painful to say anything just then. Delenn stroked his forehead, desolation haunting her beautiful gray eyes.

"I have not always been fully confident that I am walking the path the universe intends for me. But Lennier, never have I felt so far strayed from that path than I do now. So many people have such high expectations of me, and I have always risen to their challenge. But now I wonder if I am capable of fulfilling those expectations. I do not want to disappoint any of them, but worst of all…" She broke off, shaking her head as tears spilled from her eyes, and Lennier knew without her even having said a name exactly of whom she spoke. Delenn inhaled with a trembling half-sob. "Dukhat had such confidence in me, Lennier. He could have chosen anyone to be his aide and his student, but he chose me. I know it was because of my lineage, but I had hoped that his choice was also based on factors grounded in my merit. He put so much of himself into molding and training me, getting me ready for a great and important future. But I have let everything fall to pieces. I do not deserve the faith he placed in me." She pulled her knees up to her chest, laid her arms across them, and buried her face in her arms.

Lennier's heart pounded in his ears. What Delenn said was not true, this Lennier knew for certain. Not only _would_ Dukhat have been proud of Delenn – he _was_ proud of her. Delenn was unaware of the vision Lennier had experienced the previous year when he had been near death. His body had been lying unconscious in Medlab – in this very bed, in fact – but his mind had been back in his childhood home, the temple outside Tuzenor. The great former leader of the Grey Council, passed beyond the veil from this life, had spoken to him. He had not only saved Lennier's shattered heart (which had allowed him to in turn pull his broken body away from the veil when it had been a mere breath away), but he had spoken of Delenn as well. How he had been looking down on her with pride and love all this time. But even though Lennier had ached to speak of this incident to Delenn ever since it had occurred, he had held his tongue at the order of Dukhat. _"_ _I am very proud of her, but I am afraid you cannot tell her I said that. At least not yet. You must keep this entire vision a secret from her until the time is right."_ Lennier had not known until this moment how he would know when the time was right. Was he to look out for some sort of sign? And if so, how would he know what that sign was?

But there was to be no sign from beyond the veil. Lennier did not need one. The time _was_ right - this he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt. But the desperate want to share his experience with Delenn that he had felt while it was happening and in the days afterward was now replaced with trepidation. He had kept this a secret for so long. But no longer. No matter what.

"Delenn, I have to tell you something." There. The snow was beginning to slide off the mountain. The avalanche was inevitable. It could no longer be stopped. But his heart was beating _so_ quickly.

Delenn looked up with reddened, swollen eyes, her cheeks streaked with tears. She obviously saw how worried he was, even in her own compromised state, for she grasped his hand. "Tell me what, Lennier? What is the matter?"

His resolve faltered for a moment, and he hesitated. "You…you will probably be angry with me for not telling you sooner. I know it is unfair for me to ask you not to be, so all can do is plead with you to not allow this to affect our friendship."

Delenn sat up a little straighter; she had stopped crying now.

"Lennier," she said, clearly putting in considerable effort to keep her voice steady. "I think you need to tell me what is going on, right now." She pressed almost painfully on his hand – it seemed to Lennier that she was unaware of just how much pressure she was applying.

Lennier inhaled, his breath shuddering inside his chest. "Do you remember having lessons in Temple about what happens when it is time for a Minbari to pass beyond the veil? About what happens when one is near death?"

Delenn nodded, recalling the memory from years gone by. "The line between this life and the next becomes very blurred. Some Minbari who have come back from the brink of death report having had visions, even speaking with those who have already moved into the next life." She studied Lennier for a moment, obviously trying to work out where this conversation was going, before her eyes widened. "Lennier, are you trying to say that…?" She trailed off as he nodded.

"Yes," he whispered, then swallowed and forced an iota more substance behind his voice. "Last year, when I was ill, I…I woke up and suddenly I was not on Babylon 5 anymore. I was back in the temple where I grew up." Despite his anxiety over Delenn's potential reaction to his admission, he smiled a bit in sweet nostalgia. "I was so happy to be there, so excited to see all of my childhood friends again, but then I realized that I was alone, and suddenly I remembered what had happened before I had woken there. I…I thought I'd died, Delenn. I thought I was dead and I was all alone and you weren't there." His voice trembled, and Delenn squeezed his hand again. "So I sat on the floor and wept because I was afraid and because I was shattered at the thought of having left you behind. But then someone came, and –" He braced himself. " – it was Dukhat."

Delenn froze, her fingers becoming detached from Lennier's arm. Desperate hope struggled against disbelief and agony in her eyes, and Lennier felt himself crumple inside at the sight of the turmoil his words had caused her. He wanted to push ahead in his tale, to immediately begin to reassure her, but he stopped himself, knowing that she needed time to process what he had just said. And then her whole body began to shake, her tears coming anew. Lennier longed to embrace her, to provide her with the closeness that was so comforting to the both of them. He silently cursed his compromised physical state with ferocity. He did the best he could, moving slowly to avoid jarring his abdomen until he was resting a hand on her trembling arm. She tensed when his skin made contact with hers, and his heart pounded with worry that she would reject him altogether. But she did not move away – she just kept weeping.

"Oh Delenn," he began once more, slowly and quietly. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you about this straight away. But he…he told me not to." It was the truth, but Lennier was aware of how terrible an excuse his words sounded.

"Why?" Delenn choked. "You know what he meant to me, Lennier, what he _still_ means to me. And I never…never got to say goodbye, not properly. The thought of seeing him again, of speaking with him… Didn't I deserve to know, Lennier?" There was betrayal on her face and in her words now, and every bone in Lennier's body ached with a cold hollowness that rivaled the pain from his ruptured stomach. He had hurt her _so_ badly. But _now_ was the time – even amidst the guilt and self-loathing he felt, even as his own tears began to fall to match hers, he still knew this to be the indisputable truth.

"He did not give a reason." Lennier knew that lying, trying to make it all sound like less of an excuse, would do no good. Besides, he would never, _ever_ lie to Delenn. "He only said that I was to keep the vision a secret from you until the time was right, and that I would know when that was. And he was right, Delenn. I do know. The time is now." Forcing himself to ignore the pain that shot through his abdomen as he moved more quickly than his body was comfortable with, Lennier grasped both of Delenn's hands and held them with a strength that, had himself of a year ago seen it, he would have been shocked at the boldness of it. She watched him with the fresh yet tired pain of someone who has had an old wound opened raw once more. "He told that he has been watching you from…from where he is now. That he has seen how you have grown, and how he always knew you would do great things. And he knows that you _have_ done them, Delenn, and he has the ability to see that you will do more in the future. Dukhat said that the two of us would be at each others' sides for always, and that together we would change the universe." _Oh please, please feel better at these words._

Delenn sobbed even harder at hearing the sentiments of her deceased mentor concerning herself. And then she asked, the voice of the poised and collected ambassador suddenly more plaintive and child-like than Lennier had ever heard it.

"Is…is he proud of me?"

Lennier looked directly into her eyes and pressed her hands as hard as his weakened body would allow. "He is _so_ proud of you, Delenn."

Relief washed over Lennier as he saw something change in Delenn at his words. Gone was her self-doubt, and her confidence was restored. An expression of comfort settled on her face even as she wept uncontrollably, unable to yet contain her barrage of emotions. She cried so hard that she was unable to speak for several minutes. The entire time, Lennier ran his hands slowly up and down her arms, hoping that the action made up at least in part for his lack of ability to hold her close.

After a long while, Delenn's sobs began to quiet and her tears began to slow. With a little sniffle and the smallest of smiles she told Lennier, "I always lamented that you never had the opportunity to meet Dukhat. I thought the two of you would have gotten along – you are so much like I was when I was Dukhat's aide, and I've always thought that the two of you would have had a similar relationship to the one he and I had. You would likely have been a bit taken aback by his utter disregard for tradition," she continued with a little chuckle, "but you have a strength of spirit that Dukhat would have very much appreciated, and it would have eventually led you to understand and like him."

Lennier smiled at her description. It nearly identically described his experience with Dukhat.

"If you are comfortable telling me," said Delenn, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, "I would love very much to hear the details of your vision. I understand, of course, if it is too personal and you do not wish to speak of it; I will respect your privacy – "

"Yes." Lennier responded quickly. "Since I could not tell you about it, I have not told anyone. I have wished so desperately for someone to share it with – though I most wanted that person to be you, of course. But…does this mean you are not angry with me?"

Delenn stroked his cheek. "Angry? No. No, of course not. You were doing as you were told. And as much as I would loved to have known of this directly when it happened, hearing of it now did help very much. I must say, though, I am admittedly quite jealous. I would give so much to speak with Dukhat again. Just one more time."

"You may yet, when this life is over," murmured Lennier, remembering just how thin the veil between this life and the next had been as he had trod upon it, kneeling at the bank of what in his mind was the River Tuzen, but what he knew logically to be nothing but a figment of his imagination, a comprehensible manifestation of the incomprehensible. Delenn inhaled shakily at his words, but smiled gratefully.

And so Lennier told her everything. Or, at least, almost everything. He left out the part about renouncing his romantic love for her. He had never told her he had been in love with her in that way, once, before his illness had nearly taken his life. Ideally, he would have _liked_ to get that out into the open as well. But their relationship was so much different, so much _better_ now. Delenn was already dealing with so many emotions and difficult circumstances – the last thing Lennier wanted was to add to her turmoil. Telling her about it would only benefit him, not her. He would not be selfish.

But the rest of the story was one he had waited for over a year to tell someone, to tell _her_ , and now that the subject of Dukhat had been breached, he was eager share it. Despite his continued weakness and pain, he was animated as he detailed how he and Dukhat had walked to the banks of the River Tuzen, where Lennier and his childhood friends used to swim and spar and relax. How Lennier had been at the crossroads between life and death, and how Dukhat had convinced him to trust in fate. Delenn's mouth fell open in amazement as Lennier described seeing her reflection in the river as she sat at his bedside and spoke words that he quoted, which Delenn clearly recalled having said as she begged him to live and told her what his friendship meant to her, despite the incident having been over a year previous. Tears formed in her eyes anew as Lennier, his voice breaking, described dropping to his knees on the cold and muddy riverbank and screaming her name, trying desperately to get her the message that he was there, that he heard her. Those tears fell when he confessed that it had been her love that had kept him just above the surface, just on top of the hopelessness of Death's hand reaching out to claim him.

"Oh, Lennier," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Since she could not embrace him, she settled for resting her head gently in the crook of his shoulder.

"I have waited so long to tell you just how much I owe my life to you," murmured Lennier as he leaned his head lightly into hers. "Delenn, I am not exaggerating in the least when I say that without you and your support, I would not be alive right now. I know my illnesses have caused you great turmoil over the past year, but words cannot even begin to express the vitality of everything you have done for me."

"Oh Lennier, you are worth every tear and prayer and second spent at your side. I will never leave you, this much I promise. Even when I am not with you in body, know that you are in my heart every moment."

"Dukhat said that we would always be together – I have taken such strength from his words ever since the vision. You are meant to change the universe, Delenn, and I am meant to be at your side as you do it. He warned that our paths would not be easy ones, but he reassured that we could endure them as long as we are together."

Delenn smiled at him. "And endure we shall, forever and always."

Lennier's heart flooded with warmth. He stayed nestled against her for a few more seconds because he knew he needed to continue with his story.

"Delenn, there is another part of my vision that involves your personal life, and once more I apologize for not telling you until now." Delenn raised an eyebrow as he hesitated. "It does, however, concern your future, so I feel obligated to ask you if you would like for me to proceed."

Delenn thought for a moment. "I trust both you and Dukhat," she said softly, "and knowledge of prophecy is one of the things striven for in enlightenment. Tell me."

Lennier nodded. There was a time when he would likely have kept this part of the vision from Delenn, though he would likely have felt guilty for doing so. He would have tried to keep any evidence that Sheridan, that anyone other than himself, was meant to be close to Delenn. But not anymore. "Dukhat said that it was already written that the love you and Captain Sheridan hold for each other is sealed, and that your roles and fates are irrevocably intertwined. The two of you will change the future of the galaxy, and despite trials your love will strengthen and endure with time." Having said what he needed to, Lennier fell silent, politely lowering his eyes to give Delenn time to process what he had just told her. But when she did not speak for several seconds, he could not resist looking up again, and he saw that she was smiling.

"I suspected this for some time now," she told him. "But all the same, it is reassuring to hear it as an actual prophecy, especially from another Minbari. But then again, Dukhat was never one for conforming to societal rules, anyway." She chuckled. She was so _happy_. After so many weeks of sadness and worry and pain, she was finally happy. Lennier could not believe he had ever been jealous of Sheridan – it did not matter if he was the object of Delenn's romantic affections or not. Just seeing her this way was enough for him.

"But 'irrevocable', you say? Meaning that nothing in the universe can tear us apart?" She seemed suddenly thoughtful.

"Nothing at all," confirmed Lennier, and Delenn nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Lennier," she said softly, her joy more muted now. She was considering something with great depth; that much Lennier could tell. "For telling me such an intensely private story. It…it has helped me in more ways than you know. It seems…it seems as if I have been presented with an opportunity, or perhaps even a sign. I do not know. But I do know that I have a decision to make."

"If there is anything I can do to help, please tell me," implored Lennier gently. He would never pry and outwardly ask what decision she had to make. But he did want to be there for her as much as he could, and so he offered himself. A moment later, he found his tact and devotion rewarded.

"You are my dearest friend and confidant, Lennier," Delenn said, affectionately tracing the line where Lennier's headbone met his skin with her finger. "You know my heart, and you know things about me that even John does not. One thing in particular."

 _Oh. That._

"I know this is a subject on which our opinions differ," he murmured. Delenn felt eternally guilty about being the direct cause of the war with the humans. But Lennier thought that such self-condemnation was not warranted, even in this situation. Delenn's actions had been a mistake, that much he would admit. But they had been motivated by fear and an intense grief – the grief over the death of her beloved mentor. Lennier would start ten wars if he lost Delenn in the way she had lost Dukhat.

"I know," she said with a small, grateful smile that said she was glad of his faith in her. "But there is no argument to be made that it was not I whose order directly began the war with the humans. I nearly wiped out John's entire race, and he knows nothing about my involvement. If we truly _are_ to be together forever, I do not wish for this unshared knowledge to hang over my head like a storm cloud, sullying our many otherwise happy years together. But if I tell him…" she trailed off, biting her lip as she did so often when she was nervous or upset. "Even if we are meant to be together forever, I do not want this to affect our relationship. I trust you, Lennier, and I know that you want nothing more than what is best for me. So I ask you, if you are comfortable answering – what do you think I should do?"

It was an intensely personal question on her part, but Lennier appreciated her confidence in him. As much as he did not wish to interfere in Delenn's relationship with Sheridan, more than that he wanted Delenn to be comfortable and happy.

"I…I imagine that it will cause a change in your relationship no matter what you do," Lennier told her. "But maybe not as badly as you think, or even in the way you think. Perhaps after his initial anger and hurt have subsided, the captain will admire the courage and devotion to the relationship you showed in telling him of this matter."

"So you think I should tell him?" asked Delenn, clasping her hands tightly in front of her.

"I think you should do what makes you happy, Delenn," Lennier said softly, his brown eyes brimming over with earnestness. Delenn's eyes locked with his, and then she grasped both of his hands in her own and pressed them.

"My sweet Lennier," she murmured. "You are correct, of course. It will not be easy, but it is worth doing. It will be a difficult conversation, but all will be better for it."

"I will pray that the encounter goes as well as it can," Lennier told her.

"Thank you." Her smile was infectious, and Lennier felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. Delenn stood then and made for the door. But before she left, she turned back around.

"Lennier, there was a reason Dukhat told you that about me and John, wasn't there?" She watched him intently, and he swallowed hard, physically unable to speak because his heart had leapt so high into his throat. Before he could recover, Delenn continued knowingly, affection in her voice. "It is all right. I know why."

Lennier's inhaled breath shuddered. She _knew._ He tried not to let her see his panic, but he failed. Delenn, however, gave him only the kindest of smiles as she walked back over to the bed and laid her palm along his cheek.

"I think you gave something up that day. And because it involves the both of us, I must ask – are you sorry you relinquished your feelings that day?"

Lennier's heart felt like it would pound right out of his chest for a moment. But then suddenly, as though a power switch had been flipped, his nervousness was gone and he was completely calm as he met Delenn's eyes. They were full of love, and Lennier knew that his own gaze mirrored this. Delenn was his best friend. Even though their love for each other was not of the romantic kind, that did not mean that it was any less strong or meaningful. Lennier reached up, took Delenn's hand, and laid it to rest on his chest.

"I would not trade anything in the universe for what we have right now," he told her. There was nothing but pure honesty in his statement. Delenn beamed with love.

"Nor would I, _Ker'maier Ard'ka_ ," she said. "Nor would I."


End file.
